


She Who Dares

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Biology, Aliens, Angst, Corsetry, Dismemberment, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Gambling, Girls Kissing, Guilt, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jodie Whittaker is The Master (Doctor Who), Knifeplay, Lesbians in Space, Light Bondage, Mild Threat, Murder, Name-Calling, Nightmares, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Prison, Public Sex, Rescue Missions, Roleswap, Rope Bondage, Seduction, Sexual Tension, Slow Dancing, Smut, Swords, Telepathy, Thirteenth Doctor Era, Threats of Violence, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23575123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: The reader is a telepath who makes a living by hustling alien casinos until they bump into The Master who draws her into an even crazier scheme. Drawn to the beautiful, dangerous renegade, the reader finds herself bending to The Master’s will, crossing lines she would never have considered before until she’s in too deep to escape unscathed.As the pair lie, cheat and murder their way into higher society, the reader takes the opportunity to follow her own plans on the side. However, she soon comes to regret attempting to hide things from The Master, who is keen to put her back in her place.
Relationships: The Master (Doctor Who)/Reader, The Master (Whittaker)/Reader
Comments: 36
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

There are those that would say using telepathy in a casino is cheating. They would, on most occasions, be right. And it’s true; there are multiple species that have been banned from planets like this on account of their unfair advantage over other patrons. That is why you simply chose to hide your abilities from the proud establishment owners. 

Your people were fairly introspective. The technology to travel between galaxies had existed on your planet for centuries but the universe was too noisy, too populated and full of chattering minds to risk leaving the quiet haven of your home planet. You were one of the few who had braved the universe and flourished. 

By throwing away millions of credits on games of chance, the eagle eyed security missed your staggering success on the poker tables. Since you never hung around on the tables for long, and it was clear you weren’t clearing out the house, they paid you little attention. Your careful strategy meant that you had as of yet avoided detection. 

At least until today. 

Bored of playing the easy low stakes tables where you hardly needed your telepathy to spot the liars and cheats, you wove your way through the casino towards a Rovalai Circle - a game of tactics and experience. The bright lights flashed around you in hypnotic patterns designed to distract the weak of will and encourage them to spend their limited winnings in the bar. The messages had little effect on you, though. 

Underfoot, the flooring was sticky and you wished that you had adhered to the practise of other cultures to wear covers - or shoes - over your feet. Even that had to be less uncomfortable than this. You refused to let it distract you, no matter how disgusting it felt. 

A cursory glance of the high stake Rovalai Circle pits provided the perfect target. His arrogance called you over, an obnoxious beacon in an already loud and raging sea. With a little luck, you’d wipe him out by the end of the hour and be on your way with a new interstellar ship to your name. 

However, barely three steps over, a woman linked her arm with yours and dragged you away. Physical contact heightened your abilities and her intentions were scheming but non-violent so you allowed her to lead you into a far corner without protest. 

Only when you sat trapped between her and the wall did you ask, “What was that about, arsehole?”

“You don’t know?” she chided harshly. “Your abilities didn’t clue you in?”

“They don’t work like that. I get a general sense of intention. Direct mind to mind communication requires intricate rituals.” Reading the thoughts of another, offering your own up in return, was far too intimate to share with just anyone. You weren’t going to tell her that, though. Who knew what she’d do with the information. 

She leaned back in her chair, tugging on the bottom of her dark waistcoat as she regarded you with boredom. As if you were nothing but dirt beneath her heel. The arrogance. “Perhaps you aren’t as useful as I’d hoped.”

“What do you want?” The woman merely stared at you, deeming you unworthy of an explanation. Fine. You’d work it out yourself. Extending your perception far enough to feel the edge of her mind, you felt a curious tingle run through your body, followed by a wave of disgust as you pulled away. Ugh. She was a Timelord. The artron energy that permeated her cells left an uncomfortable itch in the back of your mind. 

It didn’t help that Timelords possessed a low level of telepathy too. On a basic sweep of her mind like this, pushing through her mental walls was like clawing a tunnel through a crystal cliff - all but impossible. Drawing back, you wanted to punch the smug smile off her face. She hadn’t beaten you yet. You’d just do this the old fashioned way instead. 

She didn’t squirm beneath your intense gaze, more interested in the fight breaking out nearby than your surface level analysis. Despite her prickly attitude, you had to admit she was gorgeous. Wavy blonde hair hung around her shoulders, deliberately styled to look just a little messy. Her lips were dark red, tempting like a poison apple. 

Her black suit hung perfectly on her frame, decorated with tiny constellations embroidered with the thinnest gold thread, only shimmering in a specific angle of light. This was design of the finest kind and you could only imagine who she’d had to threaten to get her hands on such a beautifully made thing. 

Obviously she had no concerns about money. She held herself with confidence - not the quiet type that bubbled below the surface and fuelled decisions with certainty; this was the loud and proud kind that whacked you around the head and left you blindsided - and those who dared to cross her did so at their own peril. Her eyes glittered with mischief; clearly she enjoyed her games or she wouldn’t be here. 

With all that in mind, it wasn’t hard to put a name to the face. A beautiful, dangerous woman with hearts of darkness. It could only The Master. A wave of twisted glee ran through your body. Maybe this would be fun, after all. 

“Whatever you’re planning,” you said. “I want in. Fifty-fifty.”

Her blood red lips turned up in a smirk. “Eighty-twenty.”

“Ha! You need me or you wouldn’t have sought me out. Seventy-thirty.”

“Eighty-twenty and I won’t turn you over to the Judoon for being an unregistered telepath.”

With little other choice, you reluctantly nodded and accepted her deal. You couldn’t risk being captured by the Judoon, not with the string of warrants out for your arrest. You patted her cheek twice, earning a sharp frown. “What?” you asked. “Is that not how your people seal a contract?”

“Not usually,” she said. “Most shake.”

The Master stretched her hand out across the table, pressed her palm against yours and moved your hands up and down. Odd indeed but then you supposed you shouldn’t expect anything else from a Timelord. A pompous race indeed. 

You moved to pull away but The Master squeezed your hand, digging her nails into your wrist so sharply that she drew blood. Her lips pulled back into a snarl, she yanked you towards her, the table pressing painfully into your abdomen, until you were close enough to feel her warm breath on your cheek. 

“Try to double cross me and you will not live to regret it.”

You didn’t doubt it. It was clear the Master was dangerous - her reputation preceded her - but the longer you held her gaze the more you believed the rumours you’d heard about the Timelord renegade. There was a darkness in her eyes, a burning rage that truly scared you. Your earlier glee faded into something far less exciting. 

Nodding slowly, you sat back down in your chair and wrapped a napkin around your wounds. It was difficult to remain stoic as The Master sucked the blood off her fingertips and you realised that you were almost certainly going to regret this. However, a part of you was intoxicated by the risk. This wasn’t just stealing from a few arrogant billionaires. This was flirting with death herself. 

Meeting The Master’s gaze, you straightened your back and held your head high. It didn’t convince her that you were in any way an equal partner in this but it was a start. Of course, the sharp pain pulsing up your arm and warm blood dropping onto your thigh were stark reminders of exactly what she was capable of. 

You waved at a passing waiter for a drink, fairly sure you were going to need one. You tapped your credit strip against her hip and when the light flashed green she moved on. You took a sip then offered the rest to The Master, who turned her nose up at the bright green liquid. 

Downing the rest, the bitter taste lingering long after the shot passed your throat, the alcohol quietened the voice in the back of your mind that warned just how terrible an idea this was. Foolish to dwell on it, you realised. It was already too late. You’d sold your soul and now the best, and only, way forward was to jump in head first and enjoy the ride. 

“So,” you asked. “Are you going to tell me exactly what I’ve signed up for?”

“Absolutely not. Now, be a good girl and follow me. We’ve got things to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Why am I doing this again?”

The Master glared at you, her lips pressed tightly together in contempt. She shoved her hands into her deep pockets, quickening her pace until you were practically jogging to keep up. How she moved with such speed and grace in shoes that high was beyond your comprehension. “Because I told you to.”

She scanned the casino, searching for someone. She wouldn’t tell you who but that wasn’t exactly unusual; she barely told you anything other than the absolute necessities. It had been a few days since you’d agreed to help The Master with her scheme and you were still no nearer to working out what her end goal was. 

“Them.” She pointed out a Boleian in the corner surrounded by armed guards who were far from discrete. Their weapons hung clearly on their belts, far too obvious to be smuggled into the casino. They must have paid a hefty bribe to the men on the door to get them through the fair-play gates (impressive scanners that checked patrons of the casino for weapons or electronic implants that might give an unfair advantage). 

“Do I have to?”

“Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a Judoon prison?” The Master smirked nastily at your silence. She clapped a hand on your arm, her nails digging into the soft flesh as she pushed you towards the Boleian. She leaned into your ear, lips brushing against your lobe as she spoke. “Don’t forget who is in charge here. You know what to do.”

“What if they aren't… receptive? Maybe you would be better suited to -”

The Master scoffed, cutting you off mid sentence. She took a step back and ran her eyes over you, your skin tingling every inch where her piercing gaze lingered. She licked her lips as she considered your appearance with something more than just professional interest. Your stomach tightened, a warmth spreading through your body as you waited with baited breath for her response. 

Judgement made, she removed a cufflink from her jacket and fell to the ground. Only when the casino shifted suddenly did you realise that you needed to breathe. The Master was beautiful, on her knees, staring up at you from beneath her long lashes. She slipped her fingers beneath the edge of your skirt, brushing against the bare flesh of your legs as she tugged on the fabric. It was no wonder you’d forgotten to breathe.

Your mind was reeling, the bustle of the seedy establishment fading away to mere background noise as your heart thumped in your ears. You were two seconds from lacing your fingers through her wavy blonde hair when she used the sharp cufflink to tear the seam of your skirt and then jumped back to her feet, too caught up in her own thoughts to even consider where yours had gone. 

Her deft fingers undid two buttons on your shirt, eyes brightening as she revealed more cleavage. She took a step back to admire her work, nodding at the result. “That’s more like it. A proper little tease now. The blush is cute, too. Can you control that? Some species can. Be helpful if you could. Makes you look innocent. It’s quite intoxicating, actually.”

“Master, I really don’t think -”

“Good. That’s the way it should be.” She trailed a finger down your cheek and smiled, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Now, get over there and do whatever you have to to get me that access card.”

Sensing your hesitation, The Master shoved you in the direction of the Boleian and waved you on from the shadows. You collected your balance and walked up to the large guards, swallowing the fear you felt over facing down one of the eight foot tall, equally wide, armed creatures. Plastering a smile across your face, you said sweetly, “I’d like a moment with your boss.”

“He’s busy.”

“I’m sure he’ll want what I’m offering.” The man wasn’t obviously to your not-so-subtle advances. He was practically salivating, unable to tear he gaze from your cleavage, but something stopped him from acting. You were grateful, really. One slimy Boleian you could just about cope with. But two? You’d rather go back and face The Master a failure. So, you decided to try a different track. 

You had noticed straight away that this guard reeked of unearned superiority; he watched his boss with disdain, shook his head after every move of the game as if he knew better than the man who’d made millions from it. His pocket was filled with used scratch tickets, pathetic failed attempts to earn a quick fortune. “Fine. How about a wager?”

That certainly got the brute’s attention. He turned his back to his boss and nodded stiffly. “What are you thinking?”

You swiped a gambling chip from the table and twirled it between your fingers. “Flip a coin. Nice and simple. Good odds either way. Heads, you let me through to talk to your boss. Tails and you can…” You wracked your brain, settling on the first thing that came to mind. “You can spend the night with my wife. She’s the gorgeous blonde over there." 

He took one look at The Master and instantly agreed. You didn’t blame him. You flipped the chip in the air and caught it, revealing… Heads. You breathed a sigh of relief - not for you but for the man. If he’d won, he wouldn’t have survived more than five minutes before The Master killed him. 

The Boleian tore the coin from your hand and turned it over a couple of times, checking for any proof of tampering. When it became clear that it was just luck at play today, he relented and waved you through to the table. 

"Is this seat taken?” you asked, sliding straight on to the Boleian’s lap. 

A long, stunned silence hovered between you before his lips pulled back in a smarmy smirk, revealing a row of sharp, blue teeth. His hand fell comfortably onto your thigh, already toying with the edge of your torn skirt. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?”

You nodded towards the shadows where you were still being watched intently. She’d probably berate you for drawing so much attention to her presence but a part of you wanted it known that someone else was pulling the strings. It relieved the pressure on your chest, the tightness in your stomach. It was easier to pretend that you were doing this for someone else than admit that you enjoyed the thrill, that the power you held over these pitiful men wasn’t completely intoxicating. 

“A gift from The Master.”

“In return for?”

“Just a little information.” You wrapped an arm around the Boleian’s neck, the grey scales scratching against your smooth flesh, and brought your lips right up close to his ear. A shudder ran down his spine and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know exactly what he was thinking of right now. Men. Didn’t matter what species they were; they were all the same. 

Stroking your thumb over the sensitive spot on his shoulder, you said, “Tell me about The Celesta.”

“What do you want to know?” he asked, the game of cards long forgotten. You hadn’t paid any attention to those around the table but now felt their eyes burning into you, watching you desperately, lustfully. You thought you’d feel uncomfortable but the opposite was quite true. Once again you were reminded of the power you held here over them. 

“Where is it, for one? How do I get in, for another?”

“Why don’t you come up to my suite and we can discuss this properly.”

Inwardly, you sighed. Outwardly, though, you gave a shy smile and nodded, making a big show of grinding your ass into his lap as you stood. You grabbed his hand and let him lead you up a back stairwell to his overpriced penthouse suite. It was gaudy at best, stuffed with clashing designs from around the galaxy, a real assault on the eyes. You didn’t have long to criticise the interior design skills of the architect as the Boleian tugged you straight into his bedroom. 

“Wait,” you said, holding up a finger. The man frowned but the rising anger subsided when you pushed him towards the large bed and raised an eyebrow. “Let’s play a game.”

***

The door flung open, The Master’s eyes burning like fire. An avenging angel, you thought, ready to kill. The raging fury quickly gave way to confusion, and then something far more dangerous as she looked between you and the Boleian, tied up on the bed. The corner of her lips twitched as she bit back a smile. “I heard screaming.”

“Worried about me?" 

"Of course not,” she scoffed, although you could easily sense the opposite was true. You wondered how long she’d been hovering outside the room, waiting for a signal to burst in and save you take control of the situation herself.

The Master strode across the room and tugged on one of the bonds. She pulled on the nearest knot, grinning as the tightened rope cut off circulation to the Boleian’s leg. “Room for improvement but have to say I am impressed.”

She grabbed a spare rope and wrapped it around her hand, letting the end coil around your throat as she circled you. “Feels good, doesn’t it? We can always practise together. I’ll show you how it’s really done.”

You swallowed deeply, trying not to imagine how that might end. It was far too tempting an avenue of thought. You ducked out from beneath the rope and grabbed the access card from the side table - the Boleian had given up its location quite willingly - then handed it to The Master. “This what you wanted?”

The only acknowledgement you received was a sharp nod. The Master then turned, sliding the coil of rope into her pocket - somehow it did not distort the line of the suit at all and you wondered what technology could make pockets larger than they appeared - and headed straight for the door. 

“Are you coming or not?” she asked without turning back, the sharp points of her heels clicking against the marble flooring. 

“We’re just leaving him tied up like this?”

“Obviously.” You made no move to follow her and The Master sighed, the tails of her jacket flaring out as spun around midstep. “He brought this on himself, love. If you’re concerned for his health, a maid will find him in the morning. Push this pathetic little man from your mind and come with me. The Ruby Cave are putting on a show tonight, a rare treat indeed. They captured a Mondalto Snake and have rounded up the local convicts. If they survive ten minutes in the area, they earn a pardon for their crimes. Isn’t that exciting?”

Despite your morals saying otherwise, it did actually sound quite entertaining so you accepted The Master’s invitation. She hadn’t been wrong. With a few glasses of exotic cocktails in your system and a buzzing atmosphere, you found yourself having a right old time by her side.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Celesta._ The local hub for anyone with more money than sense, a den of vice and sin with games and services for every taste. Before you'd crossed paths with The Master you hadn't so much as heard its name let alone imagined ever stepping foot inside a place like this. While you couldn't speak for your controlling partner, unable to resoundly discount the possibility that The Master earned a fortune moonlighting as a high society assassin, your credit balance was certainly a few zeroes short of seeing even a basic invitation. 

To be in possession of a red pass was unimaginable (the sheer wealth required to earn that kind of access rivaled the combined economy of your entire home planet and moon colonies). Unsurprisingly, The Master kept a tight hold of the access pass, hidden away in one of those endlessly large pockets inside her blazer. 

From the outside, you could be fooled into believing that it was just another backstreet casino. Guarded by three armed, faceless pillars of muscle, the entrance was hidden by the perpetual shadow from the tower blocks above. Like every establishment in the district, the street outside shimmered with a scanning forcefield to detect any and all concealed weaponry. For everything permitted on this hellish planet, violence was not at all tolerated and treated with the harshest consequences.

Just as you took your first step down the shadowy alleyway, The Master grabbed your arm and dragged you aside. She swung you against the wall of the nearest building, barely a hairsbreadth between you. While her physical form was slight, you felt entirely trapped with her chest against yours, her hands rested either side of your head against the rough stone wall.

"No, no, darling. Don't ruin the moment by speaking." She trailed a sharp fingernail down the length of your cheek, slow and deliberate. Your eyelids flickered as she followed the curve of your bottom lip, the sensitive nerves set aflame by the barest brush of her skin against yours. 

"Master, I…"

Her gaze snapped back to you, a wicked grin on her face. "Oh, now that is a beautiful sound. Say it again."

Your insides twisted again, the knot in your chest so tight that you could hardly breathe. This was just too much. Standing in the path of a supernova would be less terrifying than looking into the burning depths of her bright eyes. You swallowed deeply and whispered her name like a prayer, although whether you were calling to an angel or a demon you had no idea. "Master."

The soft vibrations of her smug hum rolled through your body, settling directly in your core. Her blood red lips brushed against the shell of your ear as The Master slowly traced the line of your body, easing down with annoying restraint that left you putty in her hands. Toying with the hem of the skirt, a high angled line that cut across your thighs and clung to your body like a silky second skin, she asked, "Did you pick this dress for me?"

"No," you murmured, a blatant lie. You'd known that The Celesta would have a strict dress code but you'd had ample choice of luxurious dresses to steal. Of the entire collection, this had been the only one in this particular shade of red. The dark fabric was a perfect match for her lipstick, the distinct colour that had haunted your dreams for days now, and you knew - or had rather hoped, at least - the effect it would have on her. To your delight, and your slight terror, your prediction had been correct. 

"Don't be shy about it, love. It's gorgeous. I'm flattered that you dressed up specifically for your master." Something in her tone sent another shiver down your spine and you suddenly found yourself very grateful for the pressure of her body against yours; without her to hold you up, your legs would have undoubtedly given way. 

The Master's fingers edged further under the fabric, teasing a path across your thigh and between your legs. A desperate moan fell from your lips, unable to hold it back. She grinned against your neck, so pleased by your reaction that she nipped at the sensitive skin and drew back as the sharp flare of pain dulled. "Is the Kloptimon still watching us?"

"What?" 

"The Kloptimon. Pay attention," she repeated, irritation seeping through her sickly sweet expression. Her glance drifted left, pointing out a dark scaled creature with three small horns on its forehead. It watched you both from across the street, attention immediately shifting to its communication bracelet when you looked over.

A squeak escaped your lips as The Master slid her hand up your chest and curled her fingers around your throat. Her grip lacked any real pressure so she didn't intend to actually harm you, for which you were most relieved, but you were distinctly aware of how the situation could turn in a second. Light and gentle though her touch may currently be, The Master was a killer and you would be a fool to forget her true strength. 

Lifting your chin slightly, locking your gaze on her, The Master said, "It's been following us we passed the emerald fountain. Same insignia pin on his lapel as the guards on the door round there. Probably a private security force hired to flush out anyone who isn't supposed to be here." 

"Do you think they know we stole the access card?"

Completely ignoring your question, The Master said, "You see that couple over there? Watch them. Tell me where they go."

"Why? What are you - Oh!"

The Master dropped to her knees and lifted one of your legs over her shoulder. You threw your head back against the wall as she nipped at the inside of your thigh. Digging her nails into your hips, a sharp reminder to do as she said and watch the other couple, The Master all but sung, "Regardless of what you may think, dear, I'm not a fool. I saw how you reacted the other night. Have you dreamt of this? Me on my knees for you?"

Her smug satisfaction should not have been so enticing and yet you could barely keep your thoughts straight. As she pressed a slow, delicate kiss to your flesh, an answer slipped free before you could catch it. "Of course I have."

"Eyes up, love. Watch which street they go down. Don't get distracted."

That was certainly easier said than done with a beautiful woman between your legs but you followed her orders, eyes locked on the dashing couple as The Master drew a series of breathy moans from your lips. Closer and closer to your core she came, her dark lipstick marking her path, but never close enough. It was absolute torture. 

"Master," you shuddered, a wave of desperate need rolling through your body. Fighting for a slither of control, you pushed her away and sighed. So close and yet so far. The consolation that perhaps there would be a next time, that it might not be somewhere so _public_ , doing little to ease the heaviness of your heart, you glanced over to a building on the opposite side of the street where the couple had headed. "That one."

The Master rose to her feet and pressed a light kiss to the very corner of your lips, the cruelest trick yet given how aware she was of your obvious attraction to her. Wasting no time, she turned on her impressively high heels and walked away. A few steps away, she glanced back and called, "Are you coming or not?"

Too far gone to argue, you stumbled after her and followed The Master across the street to the real entrance of the casino. Inside, it was immediately more grand than the rundown exterior would have suggested, the shining trilinium chandelier - each tiny crystalline drop worth enough credits to feed a small town for a month - just the first of many extravagant details in the small foyer. Veins of pure diamond shimmered through the walls and each surface was upholstered with fabric from the Eileenor System, the intricately woven tapestries all that remained of an extinct civilisation. 

It was a struggle to keep up with The Master as she tugged you behind her. Much to your confusion, she led you straight past the front desk and headed immediately for a deadlock sealed door. Expressing her annoyance with a simple tapping of her feet, The Master turned towards the clerk and, embodying the full pompousness of the Timelords, said "I'm waiting."

For a staff member that dealt with the rich and obnoxious every day, the poor thing on the desk was shaken to the core by her harsh tone. They scurried over, thin pink tail swinging behind them as they ran, and gave the most dramatic bow, their crooked nose brushing against the plush carpet as they grovelled at her feet. "Apologies, mistress."

"It's Master."

"Forgive my ignorance, Master. May I please see your access card?"

The Master dropped the red pass in their hand, an extremely irritated expression on her face. "Are you done examining it, you little pest? I wouldn't have just walked in off the street if I didn't have the proper access. Is it your tail slowing you down? Perhaps if I remove it then you will work faster."

Rightly terrified of her threat, the pink goblin creature tapped the pass against an invisible scanner on the wall and handed the red access card back to you. With no actual pockets on this ridiculous dress, a serious design flaw really, you slipped it into your bra and uttered a quiet thank you to the clerk. You barely began the sentiment before The Master shot you a look that silenced you completely. 

A series of heavy clunks filled the awkward silence as the deadlock door opened. The Master didn't wait for an invitation and strode in like she owned the place, a novel idea considering that you were the only two people in the entire building without the wealth to actually back up that confidence. 

The Master draped her arm around your waist and guided you off towards the right. Naturally, you soon found yourself at the bar. Your heart nearly stopped at the price of the exotic cocktails but the bartender's horns glowed bright green in concern when your partner waved a black card at him, imprinted with a single silver circle in the centre. Those cards were rare indeed, even among this kind of clientele, and identified the holder as a special kind of dangerous. 

Bright blue cocktail bubbling in hand as you turned away from the bar, the sweet aromas tickling your nose, you couldn't help but keep an extra step between you and The Master. 

"I can practically hear your brain struggling. What is it?"

"How did you get that card? The Black Circle requires multiple genocides as a starting entry point."

Her gaze flicked to you before returning to the casino floor, observant and caged. The corner of her bright lips turned up in a smirk as she sipped on her pink and black concoction. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I stole it from the Emperor of the Jalfrezco Conglomeration?" 

"Is that the truth?"

The Master simply shrugged. "Don't worry your pretty little head, dear. As long as you keep on with the good behaviour, I'll have no reason to hurt you. Unless you ask, of course. Now, drink up. Things to do. Games to play. And I know exactly where we're going to start."


	4. Chapter 4

A board game. Everything you’d gone through to get here - from seducing that slimy Boleian to steal his access pass to sneaking your way into _The Celesta_ \- and The Master’s grand plan was to play a board game. You made your protests very clear; there were hundreds of better targets, easy money games for a telepath, that would pocket you enough credits in one evening to leave the system and dine happily off the spoils for decades. 

Naturally, The Master ignored your suggestions and pushed you towards the centre of the casino where a crowd gathered around the large table, a near impenetrable wall of bloodthirsty gamblers betting on the outcome of the upcoming game. With each step closer, the knot of dread in your chest tightened. 

Dark emotions circled like a whirlpool around you, dragging you into the dark depths. They came at you from every angle, clawing at the edges of your mind, rabid monsters seeking out a crack in your defences. Void of any decency or care for others, the bright lights of the casino were consumed by the cold shadows as they closed in on you until you were lost in complete darkness. 

“What is wrong with you?” The Master hissed, her sharp tone an unexpected lifeline in the stormy seas. You focused on her voice, the bright flare of irritation, and used it as a beacon to save you from the overwhelming wickedness of the patrons of The Celesta. As she shook your shoulders, The Master’s face came back into view, your very own guardian angel of darkness. “Are you ill?”

“It’s too much.”

“Oh, please. Put up your mental barriers and ignore them. You are stronger than any of these fools.”

Your head swirled at the compliment. Taking strength from her faith in your abilities, you drew your perception inwards and tucked it away deep in your chest. It held for a moment, the sudden quiet disconnect almost disconcerting, before a shattering glass nearby snapped your concentration. Your perception burst from the prison and extended back into the world once again, opening you up to the sick, twisted feelings of those around you. 

At your side, The Master’s eyes narrowed. She dug her fingers into your hip and sneered, “Reign it in, love. I felt that. Others might have too.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder. You don’t want to find out what happens when you become a liability." 

Instead of reassuring you, her threats simply weakened your hold over your powers even more. The familiar uncomfortable tingle of arton energy crept up your arm as your perception encompassed The Master, only a matter of seconds from expanding to cover the entire casino. If - when - that happened, the entire place would know your secret and the Judoon would be on you before you could so much as plead for mercy. 

"Focus,” The Master muttered, a hand sliding up your back. It came to rest on your shoulder, her thumb brushing across the most sensitive node at the top of your spine. A second too late, you realised what she was about to do. You struggled against her grip but her fingers dug deeper into your flesh, holding you still. 

“No, please! You can’t -”

A bright burst of purple light erupted across your vision as she opened a telepathic channel directly with your mind, pouring her thoughts and conscience into the spaces between your neurons. Her essence raged through your brain, the pain of a timelord mind pressing itself on yours almost unbearable. 

Death might have been kinder than experiencing the entirety of space and time unfolding before your eyes. All that hardship and loss. The constant destruction of life and planets. The inevitable end of everything. This was how The Master saw the universe, everything that could, should or would never be, all at once. It was absolutely horrendous. 

But then it simply passed. The darkness gave way to a shining light, new stars and civilisations born from the desolation. Planets soaked in the blood of their people flourishing anew, creating life from death and beginning the cycle anew. Wonder and beauty and hope everywhere you turned. 

As the images faded and you came back to yourself, you were acutely aware of The Master’s presence in your mind. Lending you her strength, she built a barricade around your thoughts and blocked the ill intentions of those around you until you were able to put up walls of your own. The shadows slowly retreated until it was just you and The Master. 

Or not. 

The moment she felt your disconnect from the world, The Master withdrew from your mind leaving you with an empty ache in your heart. She dug her thumb into the node at the top of your spine, the pain so intense, so at odds with the euphoria you’d felt moments before, that you almost blacked out. However, the pressure lessened before you did and left in its wake a series of awful, burning twinges as she draped her arm casually back over your shoulder. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Your breaths came unevenly, your chest heaved as you fought the urge to smack her. Regardless of her motives, she had interfered with an incredibly intimate aspect of your life without permission. Direct telepathy was rarely practised with members of other species and never without specific preparations and contracts. 

It was only self preservation that stopped you from lashing out, aware that laying so much as a finger on The Master would unleash a fury capable of destruction beyond belief. You’d felt her strength and knew there was no way you’d win against the Timelord. However, you couldn’t just stand there and let it pass without saying something. “There are rituals -”

Voice low, barely audible over the screams and cheers of the surrounding spectators, The Master hissed, “I don’t care about your pathetic rituals. Your species limits themselves by restricting the use of your gifts. I have simply opened your mind. Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” you grumbled, humiliation burning your cheeks. 

“You’re welcome. Are you ready to play?”

“I don’t even know how -”

“You don’t need to. Move." 

Unsure exactly who she was ordering around, you followed The Master as she pushed her way through the crowd. You ducked your head and pressed your chest close to her back, minimising the contact with wandering hands. Her hair smelled of jasmine flowers and some kind of spice that made your nose tingle. It was quite lovely, almost enough to momentarily quell the fear that gnawed your insides. 

You bit back a laugh as The Master grabbed a pale skinned Kree and yanked him from his chair at the table. A terrifying silence fell around the table, hundreds of eyes directed at you and your partner. Before you had time to truly appreciate the danger, The Master sat you down in the recently vacated seat and slapped her Black Circle card on the table. 

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, morbid curiosity and fear hanging so strongly above you that you felt them tickle your mind even through your new defences. Almost unanimously the watchers reached a decision and burst out in excited cheers, welcoming you to the game. Something about the raucous applause had you digging your fingers into the arms of the chair, unable to shake a deep sense that this would end incredibly badly.

The Master rested her chin on your shoulder, her breath warm against your cheek, and greeted the rest of the table with a wicked smile, the kind that would haunt their nightmares for years to come. "Evening, boys. Got space for little old me?”

Across the large table, the gamesmaster nodded. Curiously, you couldn’t get a read on him at all and it took an embarrassingly long time to realise that he was some form of artificial life. Guessing your train of thought, The Master whispered, “Robot. Boring but effective. Designed to be infallible. They can’t be hacked and have no tells. The perfect neutral player to run the games. Surprised you didn’t notice sooner.”

“Purchase your chips." 

"My card -” Her protest was cut short as the card vanished through the table top. 

“Has been accepted as your entrance fee and added to the prize pot,” the robot stated. “Purchase your chips.”

The Master glanced around the table, gaze lingering on the other players’ tokens. Whatever information she gleaned was not shared with you. Instead, she looked you over with a clinical eye and then returned her attention to the gamesmaster. “Ten crowns, six stars and two hearts. No, wait. Three hearts.”

Her choices elicited a hum of interest from the onlookers but meant absolutely nothing to you. The robot slid them over and she piled them neatly in front of you, one arm still draped across your shoulder. The weight was a surprising comfort, actually. Faced with a game you had never played, wagering who knows what on a prize pot you couldn’t see, the knowledge that you weren’t alone was remarkably steadying. 

“What are the rules, then?” The Master asked, earning the scariest burst of laughter you had ever heard from a crowd of people. She grinned, practically baring her teeth, and made herself comfortable on the arm of your chair, completely oblivious to the rising tension around you. 

You opened your mouth to speak but she shook her head sharply, warning you against it. “You do what I say and nothing more. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good girl. Now, roll the purple die.”

And with that, the game began. 

Despite your best efforts, the complex rules remained a complete mystery to you. Even the basic mechanics of the game were confusing. For each roll of the dice (there were six colours to choose from, each with different numbers and symbols on the faces), the pieces on the board would move in seemingly random directions and land on differently coloured squares. If your piece landed on a square the colour of the die you collected a silver token unless someone else’s token was within a three space radius in which case you won a gold one. 

Confusing as that was, it at least hold to a consistent pattern. Nothing else in the game did. Marked tokens, the ones that The Master had selected at the start, were thrown in every eleven turns and piled in the centre, seemingly forgotten. With absolutely no idea what was happening, you simply sat back and drank your bright blue cocktail as The Master dictated your moves through hushed whispers. 

After half an hour of playing, you were no closer to understanding what was happening but the shift in atmosphere around the table had you sitting up straight with deep concern. You turned to The Master who simply touched her lips, reminding you to stay quiet. The air tingled with anticipation as the players began what you quickly ascertained was the final turn. 

Your turn came and The Master tensed beside you, the first physical inclination you had that suggested she was in any way less confident than she projected to the room. Her eyes skimmed the complex board before she muttered, “Put in one of the heart tokens then throw the red and blue. Pray that you roll higher than thirteen.”

“What happens if I don’t?” By your calculations, there was only a twelve percent chance that you could actually roll a number that high, assuming the dice were fairly weighted at all - that was the one thing you’d learned so far in this game: nothing was without some kind of rigged weight, regardless of how honest the casino claimed to be. 

“Try not to think about it.”

Not encouraged by her vague answer, you slid the heart token forward towards the centre of the table. Those around you gasped sharply, that awful sense of dread only deepening. Eyes closed, you rolled the dice and sent a silent prayer to whatever forces were listening. Everything slowed as the dice bounced off the table top, an eternity stretching between each impact. 

Your eyes flung open as a thunderous cheer rolled through the watchers. Relief washed through you with the force of a tsunami as you read the total on the dice: Fourteen. The Master patted your shoulder, a dazzlingly genuine smile on her face. She was utterly stunning, radiant like a shooting star as it blazed across the night sky.

Celebrations were cut short as the final player at the table went to roll his dice. Bets were placed in the ring of observers, diamonds and rare metals passed around in preparation for his go. Like you, he closed his eyes and tossed the dice - green and purple - into the centre. He rolled a six and the crowd went absolutely feral. 

“What happened?”

Before The Master could answer, the man began to blubber, stumbling over his words as he pleaded with the robotic gamesmaster. So desperate, he descended into his natural language - a series of ear piercing shrieks which were indistinguishable from general screams of terror. 

Two cuffs clicked around his wrists, locking his arms to the playing table. Your heart raced in your chest as you realised what was about to happen, a moment too late to look away. The metal cuffs glowed red as the acrid scent of burning flesh filled the air. The man’s eyes rolled backwards in his head, his face deathly pale as he collapsed in his chair. His body slumped to the ground, his hands remained cuffed to the table. 

You buried your face in The Master’s side, unable to watch as they dragged his unconscious body away from the table. As the robot reset the playing board and the remaining players put in their new bets, unfazed by the casual dismemberment of their competitor, you felt tears sting your eyes and a sickness claw up your throat.

“Pull yourself together,” she hissed, tugging you upright. “There’s still two more rounds to go.”

“What? No way. I am not -”

Her tone softened ever so slightly, your fear so strong that it was tangible without telepathy. “You don’t have a choice, love. Leave now before the game is over and you have to face the forfeit.”

“The tokens… Are they… What parts of me did you wager?”

“It’s better you don’t know. Just do as I say and you’ll be fine. You have my word that I will not let anything happen to you.”

Meaningful as her word may be, you knew there was no way she could promise something like that. When it came down to it, this was a game of luck and chance. All it would take was one bad roll and that would be it for you. 

Panic rising, you shifted in your chair only to be held down once again by The Master. Her lips were pressed tightly together but her eyes held a softness that soothed you just enough to keep you from fleeing the planet forever. She nodded, approval seeping from her skin, and leaned down to press a brief kiss to your hairline. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

The Master’s smile grew brighter, genuine joy once again slipping through her carefully composed mask. “Clever girl. In that case, trust that it’s in my interest not to lose you to the game and know that I will do everything I can to keep you in possession of your limbs, organs and head.”

Surprisingly, that wasn’t all that comforting. However, with little other choice, you straightened your back and nodded at the robotic gamesmaster. Accepting the new round of tokens, you took a deep breath and found The Master’s hand, squeezing tightly as the next round began.


	5. Chapter 5

One by one, your opponents lost the game - as well as their wagered limbs. One particular strong alien, whose species you couldn't identify, barely blinked as its leftmost tentacle was sliced from its body. It continued to up the ante, risking more and more of its slimy limbs until there was only one left. 

Spurred on by the crowd, it wagered it's head for a final roll, a desperate attempt to win back a limb or two, but luck was not on its side. With a measly combined score of eight, it welcomed death with a creepy smile on its face. The cracked orange lips still moved for six minutes after until one of the spectators collected the squidgy skull in his arms and carried it away into the shadows. 

By some miracle, The Master had played a near perfect game. Only once did you not roll an adequately high number and then she managed to convince another player to raise the stakes and risk double or nothing to beat you - her terrifying charms worked and the weak willed Grimmong paid the price with his middle leg. 

However, your perfect game did little to quell your fears. As the number of players dwindled, the stakes grew higher and the odds were no longer tipped so heavily in your favour. With only one opponent remaining now, there was no room for a false move. Attached to your limbs as you were, the possibility of losing even one had your panic rearing its head once again. 

"Shall we make this interesting?"

The Master raised an eyebrow at the yellow scaly creature. "What do you suggest?"

"Let your pet make its own moves for the remainder of the game and I'll throw in this." He dug his claws into the side of his head and tore open his skull. There, nestled between his two hearts, was a small shining crystal, the kind you'd never seen before. It reflected the light spectacularly, casting a glittering blue shimmer over half of your audience, and earned loud vocalisation of interest from the onlookers. 

"Is that a Xion crystal?"

He nodded, his forked tongue darting out to wet his lips in excitement. "Incredible, isn't it? Only a handful still exist in the entire universe. So, what do you say?"

She reached across the table and shook his hand. "Deal."

"No deal!" you exclaimed, your gaze flicking between The Master and your opponent. It would have been one thing to jump into active participation in the game if you actually knew what the rules were. However, seeing how they seemed to change with every turn and followed no logical pattern you were loathed to risk your life for a shiny crystal. 

You turned to The Master and hissed, "I can't - I won't do this! I don't know how to play! I don't even know which dice I can use without making an illegal move and forfeiting my hand. I really like my hand! Master, please, don't make me."

"Calm down. You're making a fool of me." She curled her fingers around your throat and suddenly slammed you against the back of the chair. Leaning down over you, The Master brought her lips to your ears and whispered, "He's cocky and thinks he can beat you. I promise, the right move will come to you. Just stay calm, don't give anything away and it will be fine."

"I don't understand."

"Are you always so slow? Trust me. You will." Pulling back, she traced her sharp red nail down your jawline, a softness in her eyes that calmed your very soul. How one so dangerous was capable of such a look you would never know; years of intense practise no doubt, a useful lure for the vulnerable and trusting like you. 

The Master turned to the yellow alien and matched his terrifying grin. They held one another's gaze, locked in a silent battle for dominance. Neither showed any signs of breaking, two apex predators at the very top of their food chains. Even under the blinding lights of the casino, the pair in obvious view, you found yourself curling in like prey hiding in plain sight, waiting out death with baited breath. 

"She learned from the best, you know. Are you sure you want to risk it?"

You would rather have jumped into a black hole than sit there caught in his dark stare. Judging you to be easy prey, the alien nodded and dropped the crystal onto the playing board. The table beneath shimmered and swallowed up the gem, adding it to the prize pot below. "Absolutely. To ensure a fair match, no communication, why don't you leave us to play alone? Grab a drink at the bar on me."

"How kind of you." The Master rolled her eyes but, much to your horror, actually walked away. She shot you a bright smirk as she disappeared through the crowd, leaving you to face her debts alone. You weren't surprised, not really. Ever since you'd realised exactly who she was, you'd been waiting for her to sell you out, to divulge information about your unregistered telepathic abilities in order to save her skin. That was the kind of person she was, always looking out for number one. 

So, no, you weren't surprised that she'd left you here to face your death but the betrayal hurt a lot more than you'd anticipated. Deadly and beautiful, cunning and wicked beyond belief, you'd never stood a chance. Of course, The Master owned your heart. Foolish to think that she had grown as fond of you as you had her these past few days. 

Pushing those thoughts aside, you stared at the board and felt your skin grow warm in panic. It was your turn and you had no idea what to do. Perhaps it would be easier to simply walk away, to forfeit your hand as collateral. At least you'd still be alive. If you played, you knew that your opponent would raise the stakes until it was literally all or nothing. Losing a hand suddenly didn't seem so bad.

_Contact._

You bit down on your lower lip, the chalky taste of blood filling your mouth. Blocking out the rest of the world, you closed your eyes and savoured the sound of her voice. _Master._

 _Wasn't sure this would work. Really glad it did. Now, open your eyes and keep doing exactly what I tell you._ Her words left an itch in the back of your brain but you didn't care. You weren't alone and that brought you more comfort than you could put into words. 

Under her guidance, you continued to play the game to almost the same level as before. The Master made certain to throw a few turns and made a few incredibly risky moves that left the crowd in a frenzy. They were literally salivating around you, screaming for your blood. 

Irritation coated your opponent like a second skin as he realised you wouldn't be such an easy target as he had initially believed. You worried that he might suspect foul play but hoped the search would be limited to espionage grade technology rather than jumping to the albeit correct assumption that you were using telepathy. 

You almost jumped for joy when a terrible throw had him lose a foot but caught your celebrations with horrified contempt. This game was sick and twisted and you should absolutely not be cheering for the dismemberment of anybody, even someone who was wishing the same fate on you. Beneath the rising disgust, though, you couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction and a treacherous bubble of hope that you might just get through this without losing a limb. 

By the time the final turn came around, practically the entire casino was watching you with bated breath. With no other chips left to bet, you reluctantly slid your final heart token into the centre of the board. Now, if you lost, your head would be collateral. The possibility made you wretch with fear, struggling to breathe even with The Master whispering hollow comforts in your ear. It was too much to bear. 

_You can do this. Just one more roll. What's your lucky colour?_

Given more time, or in completely different circumstances, you might have been able to choose a favourite shade. However, in that precise moment, selecting one wavelength of light over another was not high on your agenda. _I don't have one._

_Well that's just boring. Use my colours, then. Red and gold._

_There isn't a gold die._

_It's the final turn. The gamesmaster will put it on the board any second now._

A few seconds later, the robot did just that. It pulled a small, fifteen sided die from its chest cavity, added it to the table and called for the final bets within the audience. The last diamonds were passed around, little more than petty cash for the insanely wealthy patrons, and you collected the two small dice in your hands. They sat heavy in your palm and you wasted no time in tossing them across the table, desperate to rid yourself of them. 

Perhaps in hindsight you should not have been so quick to cast them away. 

_Well, that's not good._

_Yes, thank you, Master._

For the little you understood about this game, you were well aware that a roll of twelve took you to about the worst colour you could have landed on: a black square. The only way that you could win was for your opponent to land on a white square, which was 13 spaces away. Unfortunately, there was only one combination that gave that result meaning that your current charge of winning stood at a grand 0.4%.

_I hate this game. I hate this planet. I hate everything._

_You're being dramatic again, dear. Deep breath. Trust me. ___

__With no other choice, you placed your faith in The Master and waited for the inevitable. But then, against all odds, your yellow skinned opponent rolled the single number that saved your life _How did you do that? Master, how did you -_ _ _

__

__

____Now isn't really the time. Eyes up. I'm coming._ _ _ _

__Brown splodges flared across your opponent's skin, the scales that lined his head reaching up to the ceiling. His eyes narrowed so much that they were little more than slits as he rose to his feet and flipped the table over in rage._ _

__You scrambled out of your chair as he leapt across the playing space, his sharp claws tearing through the seat with ease. Instead of dispersing, the crowd around you actually closed in and trapped you with the maniac. A new wave of betting began as they cheered for your opponent to disembowel you right there._ _

__Thankfully, The Master made herself a quick path through the crowd by shrinking anyone in her way and grabbed your hand. She threw you behind her and held the small box device out at the yellow alien. "Make another move and it will be your last."_ _

__"You cheated!"_ _

__"Me? I've been at the bar for the entire game, drinking on your tab."_ _

__"You influenced my final roll. Coached your pet bitch somehow. That whore should never have been allowed near the table unless she was on her knees to provide a real service."_ _

__The Master's amusement faded, replaced by something far darker. "You will not speak about her with that tone. Apologise. Now."_ _

__His response barely passed his lips before he hit the floor, a miniaturised version of himself. The Master picked up his tiny corpse and dropped it in the robot's hand. "Consider his debt paid. I'd quite like to collect our winnings now, if you please."_ _

__Lights flashed across the robot's face as it processed the events that had just occurred. Aligning with his programme goals, he accepted the shrunken corpse and dropped it into the travel sized furnace by his side. A few staff appeared to right the table and guided the robot to input its clearance codes to release the winnings._ _

__Shovelling them into the exceptional pockets on her waistcoat, a never ending hole that somehow negated the tremendous weight of the enormous gems and gold bars, The Master nodded at the staff, bowed for the crowd and took your hand. She led you out without a word and maintained her silence until you were outside, away from prying eyes._ _

__She slid her arm around your waist and pulled you flush against her body, swaying to a distant melody. You let her lead the dance, in such a severe state of shock that you probably could have lost a limb and not noticed._ _

__"You're fine," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. The Master twirled you in her arms, guiding you through a dance you didn't know. Every step came naturally to you, placed telepathically in your mind, the gentle motions blocking out the fear and the panic. Her fingers pressed gently into your side, a soft but firm grip, almost like she was staking a claim over her lover. "You did a good job tonight, love."_ _

__In the pale pink moonlight, The Master was practically iridescent. Her eyes shimmered a beautiful green, so deep that you could easily have lost yourself in their incredible waters. She was living art, a literal masterpiece. It wasn't just her physical beauty that took your breath away, though._ _

__That glint in her eye, the slight tremble of her fingers against your skin, adrenaline surging through her veins. She lived for the danger and this had been her biggest fix for weeks, possibly even months. Playing a larger game than the one on the table, you'd been her perfect pawn and followed every order blindly despite the risk to yourself. This was a dangerous path to travel but she was intoxicating and you were hooked._ _

__Draping your arms around her neck, slowly coming back to yourself, you asked, "How did you do it?"_ _

__"Shrink them? It's this wonderful little toy of mine, a tissue compre-"_ _

__"No, I meant with the dice. Please, I have to know."_ _

__The Master sighed but you could see that she was immensely pleased with herself and had been waiting to flaunt her genius. "I realised he was cheating about ten minutes into the first round. Your rolls were lucky. His went beyond that. He had an implant beneath his hand, some kind of integrated technology that beat the scanners. When he held the dice it calibrated them to a specific frequency that could be subtly influenced._ _

__"Once I realised what he was up to, it was just a matter of finding the right counter-tech in my pockets. Got a bit of everything in there, you know. Implanted a device of my own and, when I shook his hand, my tech was stronger. Gave me control over the dice instead."_ _

__"You are incredible."_ _

__"I know!" The Master swung you round and dipped you until your head was almost touching the ground. Her face was half in shadows, emphasising her beauty once again. As she held you there, wavy hair gently framing her face and expression softer than you had ever seen, an irresistible urge rolled through you._ _

__You tilted your chin up, the slight adjustment enough to brush your mouth over hers in a soft kiss. It was barely a kiss but the emotion behind it was overwhelming. Everything that you'd felt tonight, the fear, the excitement and, most terrifyingly, the love, poured into the kiss._ _

__As you pulled back, The Master's lips parted, a strange expression crossing her face before she swept you back to your feet. She shoved her hands in her pockets and stepped away, the distance an uncrossable chasm._ _

__"Your cut," The Master said coolly, collecting a handful of diamonds from her endless pockets. It was more than you had earned in over a year of working this planet and its forsaken casinos. You could hardly believe your eyes. She dropped the gems in your hand and started off down the street, her heels clicking against the stone pavement. "See you tomorrow, Y/N."_ _


	6. Chapter 6

The gems you’d won - or rather that The Master had won, using you as a mouthpiece for her moves and your body as collateral - sat heavily in your purse as you wandered through the empty streets of the district. This wasn’t an area people came to gamble or pick up sex workers and those unfortunate enough to call it home were currently working the tables or entertaining the obscenely rich. As such, it was probably the quietest place on the planet right now. 

To some the silence may have been eerie but you found the peace refreshing. The last few nights with The Master had been nonstop, the constant noise - real and mental - was exhausting. You could still feel the ghostly touches of their dark auras against your skin, heard the whispers of the Timelord bouncing around your skull. Here you were alone, free from the crushing weight of those whose bad intentions literally surrounded them like a second skin. 

With only the gentle rumbling of ancient air purifiers and the ever present electrical buzz in the atmosphere to fill the silence, you were able to process the events of this evening in peace. Or that was the plan, at least. Only, when you started to think about what had happened, what could have happened, your heart raced and your hands went numb. 

Not the time, then. 

Stumbling on the cobbled stone path, you turned away from your apartment building and headed in a different direction. There were even fewer lights in this part of the district. The moon provided just enough of a shine to keep you from bumping into the homeless that lined the streets, curled up in tattered sheets of fabric, lost to a daze of Bliss drugs. 

You wandered in circles, convinced that her office was around here somewhere. You hadn’t been that drunk last time. Thankfully, on your fifth attempt of surveying this street, the glimmer of a golden eye painted above a door showed you the way. 

It was a squeeze to fit between the buildings and the repeated mantra that the walls were not closing in against you did the bare minimum to keep the claustrophobic thoughts at bay. Stepping out into the courtyard was the greatest relief you had felt in months. You took a long moment to breathe in the cool night air, savouring the ease with which your chest rose and fell. 

Calm and collected, you crossed the small square to a dark door. The knock was a complicated pattern of rhythms that had taken many evenings to learn from your old… Friend might be too strong a word. Acquaintance. A fellow telepath who had long since fled the system. Time had not taken the memory, though, and you completed the secret knock without a single mistake. 

No answer came, as you had expected, so you pressed your face against the wall and whispered into the hidden speaker, “Grathia? I know it’s late but I have what we discussed.”

A series of heavy metal levers clunked as she unlocked the door. A tiny slither of light peaked out as she wedged the door open, barely enough to fit a foot through. Obviously you still weren’t welcome inside after last time. In your defence, there had been no way for you to know that the horrible creature you’d shot was actually her pet (it lived but it wasn’t happy about it). Domestic animals should be cute and fluffy, not scaly with teeth larger than your hand and a bite stronger than a Tarcanian alligator. 

Grathia studied you, her bright pink eye widening in shock as she took in your new dress. No wonder she was shocked, you thought, considering that the last time you’d paid her a visit you were sporting a torn pilot’s jacket and boots with holes in. Quite the step up indeed. Lips pursed tightly together, she stood stiffly, visibly weighing up the potential hassle of dealing with you tonight. 

Time stretched impossibly as you waited for her answer and it was all you could do not to tap your foot anxiously on the ground or wring your hands. Any sign of disrespect and the Pathroba elder would put an end to this deal before it even began. You held your head high but kept your gaze on the blue spots that crept up her arm, a feature distinct to only the oldest of her species. 

She sighed heavily and opened the thick door - at least six inches of impenetrable dutlairium alloy. Grathia turned, her eye rolling to the socket in the back of her head, and led you through to her business suite. Her office was simple yet elegant. The edges of the desk were inlaid with shining ruby and the walls were bright, impersonal. There was a cleanliness to the space, almost a disconnect. It was functional but clearly never meant to entertain. Sharp and to the point, just like its owner. 

Her chair creaked as she sat, the thin desk between you. “You have two minutes.”

“Last time, you said that you had the resources to track him down. I’ve got the funds now and I want you to find him.”

“Where did you manage to acquire that sort of money?”

Even without your powers, you were able to recognise when someone was trying to read you. Grathia wasn’t an amateur; there was no physical sensation as she swept your mind and she left no trace as she pulled away. However, you’d been in this game long enough to know regardless. You lowered your mental walls as a sign that you were not here to cause her any more problems. “It was a completely legal game at The Celesta.”

Grathia laughed, harsh and cold, like an engine spluttering or gears scratching against one another. “You got an invite to The Celesta?”

“Will you accept the payment or not?”

“Show me.”

You pulled the crystals and coins from your bra and, ignoring her raised eyebrow, set the hoard on the table. A quick mental tally put their combined worth at around a million credits. Never had you imagined you would be in possession of such wealth. Ever since you’d crash landed on this forsaken hell hole, you had never had more than a few thousand credits saved up. Rent, even in a shitty neighbourhood like this, was expensive. 

Before you met The Master, it would have taken almost a decade of hustling to save up anywhere near close to this - and that was assuming that you made a killing every single night in the casinos. The problem with that, though, was that winning that much attracted attention. With what was at stake, that was something you couldn’t risk. So, you’d settled on smaller wins and resigned yourself to a painfully slow journey to this point. 

Holding the gems up to the light, examining them for any impurities or signs of falsity (there were none, you’d checked), Grathia nodded. She swept the collection of gems and coins into the drawer of her desk. “This will cover it.”

Relief rushed through your body, a physical sensation that left every cell tingling. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Stop grovelling. You have the totem I require?”

“Wait, you want to do it now?”

“There is no time like the present, except perhaps for the past and the future.” Grathia stretched her arm across the table and curled her fingers expectantly. “Any time today. Some of us have places to be.”

You frantically struggled to unclasp the chain from around your ankle. It had been over three years since you’d first shut the thin golden band and felt almost naked without the cool touch of the metal against your skin. You ran your fingers over the delicately engraved message, one of love and hope and, most ironically, safe travels. 

“I shall hand it back once I am done.” If you didn’t know her better - not to say that you knew her well at all - you might have mistaken Grathia’s gentle tone as one of care and compassion. As quickly as it came, her kinder nature vanished once more. “Quickly, child, before I change my mind.”

A sharp, tight pain filled your chest as you handed the band over. Regret, you realised. That was the very last link that you had to your brother, the only thing that proved Lijax had ever existed in any way other than in your mind. You should never have given it away, not willingly. 

That regret soon morphed into anger. 

You’d warned him not to go and he’d ignored your fears, left your planet with a smile on his face, never to be seen again. After six months without a single communication, you’d hopped on a ship of your own to chase him down and inevitably ended up stuck here. Lijax always had been an impulsive fool but who were you to criticise when you’d run blindly after him. 

Grathia covered the band with her hands, long, blue fingers curling around the gold and channeling the power within. She closed her eye and released her hold on her physical self, leaving an empty shell behind as she passed into a higher dimension. 

Minutes turned to hours as you waited patiently, anxiously for her return. You were alone in that room, desperately curious to read her body and perhaps even attempt to follow her spirit into the next world. However even the lightest brush of your mind against hers could be enough to destabilise the connection and you would lose the chance to find your brother. No amount of curiosity was worth risking his life for. 

Instead, you allowed your thoughts to drift to The Master. What would she be doing tonight? Would she have found herself a beautiful dancer to warm her bed? The notion left your skin uncomfortably clammy. Pathetic jealousy, of course. A childish emotion but incredibly hard to shake, especially as your mind started to supply images of what such an encounter might entail. 

Your soul burned, ached for her. It was ridiculous. She was a known murder, a temptress of the most dangerous kind. Capable of despicable things. And yet when you thought of her hand around your throat, squeezing the breath from your body, her gorgeous green eyes piercing into your soul, it was not fear that you felt. It was quite the opposite indeed. 

And then there was the sorrow. The realisation that you would never break through that impossible shell of hers, would never know the warmth of her heart. You had been a fool to kiss her tonight. Perhaps you could pass it off as a moment of excitement. Or would she rather hear you admit that it was a moment of weakness, a desperately needy offering to a cruel, distant goddess. Either way, you feared that you had unintentionally shifted the dynamic between you forever. 

It was probably for the best. Falling head over heels for one of the most dangerous people in the universe wasn’t going to get Lijax back, nor was it likely to end well for you in any way. It still hurt, though. 

“He’s on Abos.”

Your jaw dropped so far that it almost hit the ground. Surely she was mistaken. There was no way that Lijax had actually made it there. “You’re certain? You’re absolutely sure that it was him? He’s still alive?”

Grathia scowled. She tossed the golden band back to you, the metal cold to the touch despite being stuck within her grasp for hours, and gestured towards the door. “I have never been wrong before. Good luck finding him.”

“Could you not help -”

She shook her head, all but pushing you back into the street. Through a thin gap as she pulled the door to, Grathia said, “I have fulfilled our agreement. You shall speak of me to no one and never return. I have given you all the knowledge I am able. Be on your way.”

The heavy metal tumblers clanked back into place as Grathia barricaded herself from the world once more. There were so many more questions you needed answers to but you respected the elderly woman’s wishes and turned away without them. You knew yourself the toll that hiding from the Judoon put on a person. Like you, Grathia’s powers were outlawed in this sector. The distrust of telepaths, psychics and mystics ran deep here and you would both face a death sentence if the wrong people learned the truth. 

Keen to avoid that, quite fond of living even if it was a bit of a shitty gig, you wove back through the darkened streets - vaguely aware of the rising sun - to your apartment. Lost in your thoughts, you ran straight into a large fellow as you rounded the corner to your block. You bowed your head, mumbled a quiet apology and stepped around him. 

However, he had other ideas. 

You should have been paying more attention. Up this close, you could feel his bad intentions like a slap in the face. Darkness this strong should have been tangible over a block away. If you had actually paid attention to your surroundings, instead of getting tangled in your mind, you would have felt it immediately. 

The man shoved you against the nearest wall, the rough surface scratching up the bare skin on your shoulders and back. Towering above you at almost nine feet, the dark skinned creature drew his lips back in a terrifying smirk and hissed, “I saw you last night at The Celesta. I know your secret. _Telepath._ ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you breathed, all too aware of how he trailed his claws across your chest. Just one more ounce of pressure and he would pierce the skin and the jagged talons would tear you to shreds. However, even that seemed a better fate than facing up to Judoonian justice. “Please, just let me go.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His shining red eyes screamed otherwise. Saliva dripped from his mouth, dampening the front of your dress as he pressed his impossibly large body against yours. You squirmed against the wall, only succeeding in shredding more skin. “Just give me a nice, modest cut of the winnings and I’ll disappear. Your secret will be safe with me.”

“I don’t have any money.”

The creature growled through sharp teeth, his breath disgustingly moist against your cheek. “Do not lie to me. I saw the blonde give you your share in the alleyway. Hand it over.”

“I don’t have it!” you insisted. 

“In that case, I shall take my silence another way.”

Driven by an incredible desire not to learn how he intended to take his bribe, you pressed your hand to his forehead and directed an enormous blast of psychic energy straight into his brain. He stumbled back, dazed but only momentarily. It was not a practise with which you had much experience, your abilities far more passive than other telepathic species, but it gave you a brief opening in which to flee. 

You didn’t waste a second. 

Speeding down the street, you dashed down a little back alley - a shortcut to your home - and prayed to any deity that was watching and laughing at your progress to stop these ridiculous heels from snapping beneath you. You’d escaped dismemberment once today, surely they would be kind enough to let you manage it once more. 

The creature’s heavy footsteps pounded after you, drawing closer with every single second. On your best day you wouldn’t have been able to keep the distance between you for long. Tired, emotionally drained and sporting the worst headache - ‘peaceful’ telepaths suffered the most from attempts at offensive blasts - you stood almost no chance. 

A cry of despair fell from your lips as you ran into a dead end, realising too late that you must have taken a wrong turning somewhere. Stupid. Years you’d lived here, suffered a pitiful life on this hell planet, and now you were going to die here too. Alone and in the dark, the worst way to go. 

“You’re going to pay for that, you bitch,” the man snarled. He drew his lips back in a twisted grin, revealing row after row of bloody jagged teeth. You barely heard his threat over the sound of blood pumping in your ears but his meaning was clear. 

Stumbling backwards, you tripped over an abandoned sleeping bag, your feet tangled in the soggy heap of fabric, and hit the ground with a thud. You scuttled back until your back hit the wall, cornered and out of options. Accepting your fate, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath when a sharp voice pierced through the frantic beating of your heart. _Open your eyes._

You did so, more out of shock than anything else. _Master?_

_No, it’s your conscience. Yes, it’s me. See the bulge in his left boot? It’s a blade. Use it to stab his leg. Half way between the upper and lower knees. That’s important. Perfectly between the two joints. Move!_

The message came through so quickly that you didn’t process it as a verbal communique. Instead, you saw a series of pictures flash before your eyes, demonstrating in alarming detail the path that you had to take. 

Driven by instinct that you could hardly claim as your own, you dived forward and tugged the blade from the creature’s boot. He realised a moment too late what you were planning and his attempt to twist away was too slow. You sunk the blade between the joints, just as The Master had instructed, and the dark skinned alien crumpled to the ground.

 _Good girl,_ The Master hummed and you could almost feel her hand petting your hair. _Don’t forget to breathe, dear._

Cool air rushed into your lungs as you scuttled back, unable to tear your gaze away from the body. You were guilty of many things but for all of your lying and cheating you had never, not once, considered actually killing someone. 

_It was self defence. It’s fine. Just let it go._

Except it wasn’t. You had still taken a life. 

There would have been another way. There were always other options, hundreds of improbable but still potentially possible escapes that you could have made before resorting to murder. But killing him… 

His red eyes stared lifelessly into yours, unblinking, unfeeling. Not all that different to how they had been when he was alive. But as you reached out to brush the edges of his find, the lingering darkness twisted your guts into tight, painful knots. You vomited in the shadows but the rot continued to spread through your cells like a cancer. It crept through your body, clawed at your skin and turned you inside out. 

Only when the police arrived did you realise that you were screaming. 

A large Andorai with flowing green hair took one look at the scene and sighed. They wiped the acidic yellow blood from their boots and lifted to your feet with ease. Handcuffs glittering in the morning sun, the officer said, “Come willingly. It’s far better that way.”

You nodded mindlessly as they clicked the restraints around your wrists. Ducking into their car, you stared unfocused out the window. You were far away, watching this nightmare happen to someone else. It wasn’t real. 

In a final moment of clarity, clinging to the shred of hope that it might just be okay, you tried to reach out to The Master. However all you found was a stone wall, an impenetrable barrier between you and the one person on this planet that might have been on your side. 

No, you had to face facts. 

You were alone.


	7. Chapter 7

The wall was full of cracks. Tiny little fractures that on their own would never be able to do much damage but together were slowly but surely eroding the strength of the cell. Perhaps in fifty years - the minimum sentence for violence on this planet, almost a crueler option than execution - the stone would be weak enough for you to punch a hole through. 

You sat on the hard stone slab which doubled as a bed, resigned to your fate. 

The preliminary hearing had been clear. The evidence gathered by the police, combined with your own confession, proved that you had killed Provel Gibali - the red eyed creature from the night before. With no objections, the magistrate had scheduled your official trial for tomorrow where the sentence would be passed. Until then, you were stuck here to contemplate how this was how you were to live out the rest of your life. Locked in a dark and dingy cell. Alone. Forever. 

It wasn't all bad, you supposed. An officer had taken your beautiful dress (which was considerably less beautiful having been soaked in Gibali's blood) and exchanged it for a loose fitting prisoner's uniform: flat boots and an ill fitting grey tunic. They swallowed completely but didn't scratch against your skin like some materials might. The food was bland but edible and the cell was warm and quiet. Plus, there had been no hint of suggestion that you were a telepath so you avoided that particularly harsh death sentence. So, silver linings. 

Shifting onto your back, you stared up at the largest crack above your head and willed it to open up, for the ceiling to collapse on you so that you would be free of this emptiness. You'd been a fool to believe that this scheme would end well. The universe had never been kind to you before; it had taken your brother from you and delivered you straight into the arms of The Master. To think that it might listen to your pleas now was wishful thinking. 

Your wish was eventually granted but not how you hoped. Instead, you felt wave after wave of panic and fear flooding your cell from outside. Quickly drowned out by a symphony of ear shattering screams, you brought your knees to your chest and squeezed your eyes shut. It was too much. The equivalent of an empathic nuclear explosion and you were trapped right at the centre, exposed to the terrifying heart. 

Blood spilled beneath the door into your cell, a dark stain on the cold floor. A key twisted in the lock and moments later The Master stepped inside, framed in bright light, your avenging angel. In her hand a beautifully elegant sword, dripping blood onto the ground. The only sign that she was remotely ruffled were the curled strands of hair that fell loose around her face and the dark smudges that lined the hem of her trousers. 

"Come on, love. We don't have all day."

You mindlessly took The Master's hand and followed her through the hallways of the small police station, padding heavy footsteps through the puddles of blood that now soaked the floor. Strange how each species bled in different colours. You'd always known that they must but seeing it spread beneath your feet like a nebula torn from the sky made you feel sick. 

It was almost a blessing, really, that The Master was so good at killing. Not a single officer hovered on the edge of death. There was no desperate clinging to the final spark of hope and life. Each dispatched with heartless efficiency. Nothing more than cold, formless shadows around you, empty whispers that faded to nothing as their consciences drifted past yours on route to their final destinations. 

This was a gift from your Master. You couldn't have listened to their whimpers, their pitiful pleas as they bargained with the universe for another pointless day. It would have driven you to despair. Now, you didn't have to. At least this way, the path out of the station was quiet. You could almost fool yourself into finding it peaceful. 

The back staircase twisted endlessly, hundreds of steps leading further and further down back to street level. You took them two at a time, planting a trail of bloody footsteps beside the neat little points of The Master's heels. She floated down the staircase beside you with an elegance that you could never match - certainly not in ill-fitting prison clothes; unlikely even in the finest stolen fabrics. 

Above, the dim station lights flickered and you were vaguely aware of an alarm ringing quietly in the distance. Harsh and rhythmic, repeating on loop like a screaming heartbeat, crying out for a doctor to fix its injuries and rid it of the evil that lurked inside. It would have to wait a long time. There were no doctors around these parts. 

"Keep up. It's like you've never broken out of a prison before. Haste is of the essence. You fall behind and I will leave you here to rot."

You hurried to catch up with The Master, unaware that you'd practically slowed to a stop. Stupid. All these little mistakes were going to get you killed if you weren't careful. You clung to the cold metal rail as you raced down the staircase, fancying that your companion would rather that than have you hang off her arm like a little child. 

There were no armed guards waiting for you at the bottom of the staircase, only a heavy, locked door. Thankfully an old fashioned key-in-lock affair, there were no technical biometric scans to bypass and a quick scan of the frame showed no signs of an alarm system. Easily cracked, with the right skills. A serious fault in the prison's security, if you were being honest, but one for which you were currently quite grateful. 

The Master shoved her sword into your hand, a dangerous look on her face as she turned her back to you. Her message was clear: _do not even think of using that on me._ As if you ever would. 

She crouched down, balanced precariously on her high heels, and removed the golden cuffs from her dark red blazer. The sharp pins were apparently multipurpose, not only beautiful but functioning as both miniature blades - you recalled how she tore your skirt that night; it seemed so long ago after all you'd been through, a distant memory from when this shared adventure had been far less of a nightmare - and, now, lock picks. 

Within seconds the locks clicked open and she rose with a smug smile on her face. "Still got it." 

Snatching back her sword, The Master kicked the door open (again, even more impressive in those incredible shoes) and gestured for you to step through. "Quick as you like, love. Head to Barrows Street if we get separated. Grand Cavern Hotel. Got that?"

You nodded and committed the name to memory, although you had no intention of leaving her sights. Following a path that The Master placed in your mind, her telepathic influence over you less of an immediate concern than getting as far away from the police station as possible, you kept to the shadows and wove through back streets on a route that seemed to take forever. 

These alleys were empty, save for the rats that scampered through the drains and the drunks who were too far gone to differentiate your presence from those of their hallucinations. Cheers of the victorious punters drifted on the wind from nearby casinos, matched perfectly by the deep sorrows of those that lost. Heady emotions indeed, ones which you were currently far from capable of blocking out, that left you dizzy and relying increasingly on The Master to patiently catch you as you stumbled. 

When the bright lights of the Grand Cavern came into view, you nearly wept. It was a glorious hotel, towering above you and coated in a second skin of bright, flashing lights. The Master took your arm and strode straight through the open lobby. Not a single patron so much as glanced your way, each too busy with their own illicit affairs to take notice of your prison garbs. 

You were grateful beyond words as she bundled you into the lift for you would certainly never have made it up a single flight of stairs, let alone thirteen. The Master tapped her fingers against the grip of her sword as the numbers climbed, far more casual than she had the right to be. The door pinged open and she guided you out, her hand a comfortable weight against the small of your back. 

Down the hallway she led you to her room. The number on the golden plaque above your head, 134, burrowed into your skull, burned itself onto the back of your eyelids. The warning was clear. Of course, with the day you'd had, you shouldn't have been surprised. It was only natural that The Master was staying in a room marked by the most cursed number in your entire home system. 

She stepped around your stiff body and opened the door with a click of her fingers. Her hand curled around your wrist, not so gently dragging you in behind her. The air changed as you crossed the threshold. Heavier, warmer. Noticeably different, not at all a pleasant change. The Master, however, blossomed, comfortably in her element. 

You stumbled into the large room, the sheer size of the room overwhelming. This… could not be possible. There were twelve other rooms on this floor, each barely more than ten feet wide. Somehow, The Master's suite extended beyond those limitations, stretching out in an incredible way. 

Then it hit you, a physical blow in the chest that brought you to your knees. A low telepathic field encompassed the entire space, overflowing with artron energy. It crawled beneath your skin, infiltrated every cell of your body, a flaming itch that you couldn't ignore. The knot in your stomach grew as you pulled a name from the depths of your mind: _TARDIS._

That was your last thought before you passed out.


	8. Chapter 8

You darted through the trees, weaving between the thin, red growths in a desperate hope to outrun the creature. However, no matter how hard you pushed your muscles, it maintained a steady distance between you, matching your pace with ease. In fact, against all odds and much to your terror, the shadowy figure was gaining on you.

Its heavy breathing like something dragged from the darkest lagoon, poisoned by the atmosphere of your world, only able to continue through sheer twisted will, it powered through its own suffering in order to close the gap between you. At this rate, you had minutes before it caught you and then… Only it knew what was in store for you.

In the time it took you to run from Orchan’s Dale through the old paths down towards Greigo Palatia, at a frantic pace which barely lasted minutes, the blue sun rose, peaked above your head and set in the south. The familiar groves of your childhood shrouded in darkness, you could practically feel your pursuer’s breath on the back of your neck.

Each step was heavier than the last as your feet dragged against the crimson grass. The creature, on the other hand, was flourishing in the darkness. Its breath was still ragged and hoarse, like someone clawing at the inside of a hollow boliga tree, but now it came stronger, faster, as the nightmarish beast closed the gap.

You stumbled through the darkness, relying on muscle memory alone to get you over the uneven ground. Nothing had changed since you were last here, decades ago now, but this was not the cheery place you remembered as a young child. The air was thick, the roots of the once bright and blossoming trees twisted beneath your feet, almost consciously reaching up from under the surface to trip you up.

A dark, clawed hand grabbed your arm, finally catching up to you. Mere minutes had passed since the beast first spawned from the shadows, invaded your blessed, peaceful dreams with its horrendous stench and evil aura. Like thick oil coating your skin, thick fingers curled around your flesh and dragged you closer.

Breathing death and decay, the shadow pulled back its jaw and growled in your face, droplets of acidic acid burning your cheek as it roared in anger. Swatting you away as if you were little more than a wet sheet of parchment, the beast towered over you, its footsteps shaking the ground as it closed the gap between you once again.

In the distance, the sun was rising once more. All you had to do was hold on for a few seconds. It had been weaker in the light; perhaps the same would prove true again. One little moment was all you needed to get away. The morning light might incapacitate the creature long enough to open a window of opportunity, no matter how small, for your escape. 

Unfortunately, your bold, misconceived, plan relied on the blazing blue sun following the laws of physics and right now it was instead hovering quite content on the distant horizon, trapped in a moment as you fought for your life. The beast showed no signs of slowing and lifted a thick, oozing arm up, poised to strike you down.

Accepting your end with a modicum of dignity, you opened your eyes and met the shadowy figure’s gaze, staring death directly in the face. Only, instead of the slimy, black face of a monster, with bright red eyes, teeth as sharp as daggers, an all round vision of Hell, you were met with a far more familiar sight: your very own reflection.

Staring down at you, the creature wore your face. Torn and bruised, eyes blank as a newly created cyber-clone awaiting orders, your face was coated in blood. But not your own. The bright yellow blood of Provel Gibali. Splattered across your cheek, burning and boiling the smooth flesh as it ate away at your shell, devouring you slowly, painfully.

Even as you scrunched your eyes tightly shut, the image prevailed on the back of your eyelids. The lifeless eyes of the man who you’d killed – in self defence, an external voice unhelpfully reminded you. Your shadowy clone wrapped its hand around your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs.

You did nothing to stop it as stars flickered across your vision and then nothing but the cold, black void which you deserved.

When you reopened your eyes, you were in The Master’s room, perched up against a thick pillar. Her TARDIS. The ceiling towered above you, stretching up to the heavens, dark and as never ending as the void between the universes. It gave great space to the TARDIS, while somehow managing to make you feel deeply claustrophobic at the same time.

In the centre of the room, a brightly lit console, hexagonal in shape. The panels surrounded a shining column of crystal, unique with the dark black and red veins which ran through the entire structure. You tore your gaze from the twisting, jagged lines, a voice in the back of your mind whispering that madness would consume you if you stared too deeply into the heart of the crystal. Whatever secrets of space and time it held were not yours to know.

Impossibly deep bookshelves lined the walls around you, packed with black, leather bound volumes with no legible titles on the sides, instead just a series of intricately connected circles and lines. A few shining artefacts and blinking, handheld devices littered the shelves but did little to lighten the space. It feel like you’d woken in a cave of kinds, a secret place where The Master could hide the things she valued most.

As you searched the TARDIS for any sign of your saviour – if that was what you could call The Master, considering it was mostly her fault you were in this mess in the first place - you became uncomfortably aware of how much the ship did not like you. It regarded you with immense distrust, a cold tingling feeling on the back of your neck, underlined with something you almost named as jealousy.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The Master appeared across the room, gliding down a staircase which definitely hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Sit up properly and drink this.”

You accepted the vial and downed the pink liquid in one, the sharp, acidic scent far worse than the actual taste. The effects were instant. Your head felt lighter, the dull pain behind your eyes lessening as the pressure inside your body adjusted to that of the ship’s. The aching in your joints eased and you watched as the horrible bruises on your body faded away to nothing more than light marks on your skin.

“Better?”

You nodded.

“Good. Getting rid of a body is so much hassle.”

The Master, now sporting a tight, sleeveless black jumpsuit with pockets edged in blood red fabric and the same golden circling patterns that marked the books around you down the side of one leg, hovered at the central console. Her back was to you but you felt her gaze as she watched you in the reflection of one of her bright displays, monitoring the effects of the serum for a negative reaction.

Her fingers danced across the screen, flicking through a selection of graphs which you guessed were your own vitals. Nothing looked out of place, at least not to your untrained eye, which filled you with some kind of comfort. As she waved away the readings, a deep groan echoed around the room and The Master’s lips twitched in a smile. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, “The TARDIS doesn’t like you at all. Thinks you’re going to steal me away from her.”

The ship clearly overestimated the power you held over The Master. You doubted that anyone would be able to convince her to do anything that she didn’t want to do, let alone steal her away. Still, you certainly understood why the TARDIS would be upset over the possibility of losing her pilot. These past few weeks with The Master had changed your life for good and returning to a normal life after this would be, you suspected, almost impossible.

“Enough sitting around, then. We’ve got things to do! You being wanted for murder will make it a little harder to move between the casinos but I can whip up a perception filter and that should deter all but the most observant. Have you got anything made from Silurian Onyx? One of the best psychic conductors out there so it’ll amplify your own…”

Suddenly the razor edge of her sword pressed into the base of your neck, right over your heartbeat. You glanced up from the metal grating beneath your feet and stared blankly at The Master, your body tense but your mind unclouded by fear, by anything. You knew the danger you were in but just felt numb.

Leaning in, the sharp bite of metal against your skin doing little to elicit a response, The Master said, “I expect you to listen when I’m talking, love.”

“Sorry.”

“She speaks! There I was thinking you’d gone mute. Who knew your silence would be more irritating than your normal incessant noise.” The Master crouched down, thin heels balanced perfectly on the metal grating, until she was at your eye level. Sword clattering against the floor, she grabbed your jaw in one hand and turned your face side to side, searching for something. “Did they hurt you?”

You shook your head.

The Master dug her fingers into your cheeks, nails sharp enough to draw blood but lacking the pressure to actually break the skin. Her warning was clear to you, though. “Use your words when I ask you questions. I won’t ask again. Did they hurt you?”

“No, Master.”

“Then why are you being so…” She waved her hand in the air, searching for a word to describe your recent behaviour. In the end, she settled on: “Annoying? I broke you out of jail; we’re having fun! I don’t appreciate your bad attitude bringing my victory high down.”

For a moment, you couldn’t believe your own stupidity. Of course she didn’t understand. How could she? The Timelord who ran from place to place, seeking out danger and thriving among destruction. It would literally never occur to her that the things she took for granted, the moments which made her life exciting and worth living, were eating you up inside, the knowledge of what you’d done slowing rotting your cells away to nothing.

“I killed a man.”

“And you did it beautifully,” she praised. “I couldn’t be prouder.”

“That’s the problem!”

The Master narrowed her eyes and leaned backwards, rocking gently on her thin heels, regarding you with something between curiosity and disappointment. She pursed her lips together as if your words were something sour. “Elaborate.”

“I really am grateful that you helped me, Master, but my life is not worth sacrificing another.”

“Oh, love, if it was a sacrifice, there would have been candles, flowers, maybe even drinks. What you did was cold blooded murder.”

“It was self defence.”

Her sharp laugh bounced off the TARDIS walls and the bright column in the centre of the room flickered, the ship clearly sharing in her amusement as you twisted the words she’d been whispering in your mind back at her. The Master clasped her hand over your shoulder and smiled, the stiff kind she reserved for rude bartenders or stuck up gamblers. “You’ve got one more chance to tell me what else is going on in that pretty little head of yours before I rummage around and find out for myself. And let me warn you now: that is going to hurt.”

“Master…”

“Do not test me, Y/N.”

You bowed your head, reaching out into the universe for forgiveness. Barely more than a whisper, you said, “I hate myself for taking his life. I know that it was him or me but I shouldn’t… It – murder – it shouldn’t feel…”

Her perfectly painted lips pulled back in a legitimate smile, breathtaking and heart stopping but not necessarily in the good way. She tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her flaming gaze. “Say it. Go on.”

“Killing Gibali shouldn’t have given me such a thrill.”

The Master’s hand circled around to the back of your neck, her touch fierce and yet somehow almost protective. She captured your mouth in a ferocious kiss, dominance undeniable as you instantly yielded to her touch. You lost yourself to the fire she ignited in your soul, the dangerous kind which burned out of control, swallowed you whole and reduced you to little more than a pile of ash. More so than anything else you’d done over the past weeks, this was by far the most dangerous thing the Timelord had pulled you into – however willingly.

Scratching her sharp nails down the sensitive side of your throat, The Master said, “It’s the balance of the universe, love. Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.”

“But I don’t want it,” you breathed. “I don’t want to be a murderer.”

“Too bad.” She shoved you back against the wall and rose to her feet, towering above you like a goddess staring down at her pathetic worshippers. Two seconds from squashing you beneath the soul of her shoes like a bug, The Master said, “Like it or not, that’s exactly what you are. Embrace it or let the darkness eat you up from inside. I don’t really care either way. Now, are you going to be good and show gratitude to your Master for saving your life or just curl up here in the corner and get in the way? Because if it’s the latter, you can leave right now.”

You closed your eyes and prayed to the universe for forgiveness, both for what you had done and what you were about to do. When none came, you found yourself strangely reassured. There was no one watching you, no almighty powers casting judgement on your decisions.

Sensing your resolve teetering on the edge, possibly even reading your mind straight out, The Master reasoned, “There’s only one person we have to answer to in the end and that’s ourselves. If you can convince yourself that it was worth it, that’s all that matters.”

“Lijax.”

“Bless you?”

“He’s my brother. I came here to find him. Everything I’ve done, good and bad, I did for him.”

The Master considered that for all five nanoseconds, but in that time millions of separate thoughts flew through her mind. You could see it in her eyes, that spark of understand as she weighed the ammunition you had just provided. “That’s why you were in that part of the city. To speak to one of the other telepaths.”

You nodded then quickly recalled her earlier threat over what would happen if you didn’t voice your answers. “Yes. I have a contact who was able to locate him. I’d been saving for their services for almost a year. The winnings from The Celesta covered the payment in full.”

“And they provided you a location?”

“Abos.”

A cold chill shot through your body as The Master laughed, the harsh sound like clunking gears. She turned on her heels and immediately began flicking switches on the console dashboard. The central pillar shimmered, casting a red light over the room, and the TARDIS began to shake.

Grinning wildly, The Master curled her hand around a lever and threw it down with the most dramatic flare. “Hold on to something,” she said. “This is going to be so exciting.”


	9. Chapter 9

“What do you know of Abos?”

In truth, all you knew came from stories. Lijax and his friends had been obsessed with the place, searched high and low for any mention through thousands of records and interplanetary communications (at much personal risk; your people weren’t complete isolationists but had a very narrow view on the wider universe and those intent on exploring it). For your safety, your brother never shared more than vague details on the mysterious planet but you recalled the rare times he spoke of it with such vigour and joy.

You turned in front of a full length mirror, struggling to lace up this awful waistcoat. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before, constructed of multiple leather panels each as tough as Mandilee steel but smooth like rose petals. The stiff fabric curved awkwardly over your shoulder and around the left side of your chest in an asymmetric design which almost magically changed the appearance of your body. Your shoulders looked wider, your waist slimmer, and this was before you even had it fastened properly.

“Is this really necessary?” you asked The Master, twisting your arm back in at a highly unnatural angle to reach the next piece of cord.

“Yes,” she answered, closing the gap between you. She knocked your hands away and tugged on the thin, metallic cord to pull the waistcoat into its proper place. Each of the panels shifted drastically, tightened over your chest and squeezed the air from your lungs like some sort of elegant but deadly torture device.

The Master’s fingers were gentle across the back of your neck, pointedly circling the telepathic node at the top of your spine but never quite touching the spot. Each brush made you feel heady, almost as if you were floating on a cloud which could at any moment disappear beneath your feet. The leather was too thick for you to feel her touch through as she danced her fingers along your newly exaggerated curves but your stomach knotted and flipped nonetheless.

To your eyes, the waistcoat was adequately fastened and you were ready to go however The Master had other ideas. She pulled a thin, golden length of rope from her impossible pockets and draped it over your shoulder, the delicate strands soft against your exposed skin. “Abos is a vicious world. You need to be properly protected.”

Fear for Lijax bubbled up inside you at her words. He had always believed it a peaceful planet, a world of hope and opportunity. That’s what the travellers to your world had always claimed. Abos, the place where you could go to fulfil your potential, the sort of world you’d wish to die on.

“Oh, the people there certainly want to die, alright,” The Master said, far too cheerily. You attempted to push your annoyance through the telepathic bond, to make her realise how intrusive she was being when she read your thoughts, but if she felt it then she showed no signs of remorse or regret. “It’s a great system, you know.”

“What do you mean?” You swallowed deeply as she curled her fingers around the base of your neck, skin tingling everywhere she touched. You were trapped her, frozen against her body, and the most terrifying thing was that you couldn’t bring yourself to even consider vying for an escape. This was exactly where you were meant to be, with your Master.

Her bright red lips brushed against the side of your neck as she spoke, marking your skin, staking her claim. There was something very hypnotic about her low tone, thick with desire and promises of dark and wonderful things, tempting you to join her in the shadows. “They entice off worlders in with beautiful promises of work and joy and wonders like they have never seen. And then -”

The golden rope tightened around your throat. It was just loose enough to allow you to breathe but tight enough to ensure your submission. One wrong move and this would end in disaster. Although you trusted The Master with your life – a bad decision, of that you were certain, but natural seeing how she’d saved you multiple times now – the jeopardy of your situation was clear.

Long fingers tying a beautiful knot from the golden strands, functional yet aesthetic, The Master whispered, “The perfect slave.”

You weren’t certain whether she was talking about you or those foolish enough to journey to Abos. Either way, you knew you had to find your brother and save him. Still fairly certain that she wouldn’t hurt you, the same couldn’t be said for whoever had bought Lijax. The thought made you sick; your brother, sold like a bag of rice, a commodity.

“Turn around,” The Master ordered, her lips twitching into a smirk when you obeyed instantly. She lifted your arms and began to wrap another rope around your wrists, weaving the strands back and forth in a well practised technique until there was no hope of escape. You were the perfect doll, stiff and unmoving as she worked, and she rewarded your compliance with a kiss.

The Master cupped your face, long red fingernails scratching lightly at your hairline, and tilted your face up to hers. In the TARDIS lights, her green eyes were more vivid than ever and you wondered whether the ship did it on purpose; chose the best lighting and stoked her ego to keep her on side. It didn’t really matter, not when she looked every bit the tempestuous goddess you thought her to be.

She kissed you lightly, soft as silk, capturing your bottom lip between her teeth. You moaned softly into the pressure, eyes flickering shut as The Master maintained control. Slowly, sensual, she trailed a hand down your arm, following the exact line of your trenial nerve, another of the most sensitive, intimate parts of your body. Her fingers danced over the tightly woven rope around your wrists before suddenly tugging on the cord and drawing away.

“You’re so pretty when you want me,” she teased, grazing her nails down your cheek. “Let’s find you some boots and then we’ll be good to go.”

You glanced back in the mirror at your reflection, shame rising at what you saw. You reeked of desperation and need and in the tightly fitted corset – for that was effectively what it had become after The Master laced it up – bound with golden ropes, you were like a pet on a leash. A pretty one, if the Timelord was to be believed, but still a pet nonetheless.

What you had assumed to be an under shirt beneath the waistcoat-corset was apparently all you would be leaving in today. It was scandalously see through, hardly long enough to reach your knees and what modesty it might have provided was undermined by the sharp diagonal cut along the front. In this state, you would fit in perfectly with any of the night-walkers that hung around the casinos after closing, temptingly sinful and unimaginably cheap.

The Master yanked harshly on the golden cord and you stumbled towards her. She licked her lips as she regarded you, sharing none of your distaste for the outfit, instead visibly aroused. There was no shame as she took in your attire, openly and almost smugly drinking you in. “This way, love. I know just the shoes for you.”

You hurried after her so the rope maintained a slack and didn’t rub against your flesh, although you were beginning to believe that the soft fibres wouldn’t leave much of a mark anyway.

“I need to be able to walk in them,” you pointed out.

“Hardly.” The Master sat you down on a bench and waved her hand through the air. The shelves on the wall changed, a fascinating kind of projected interface with her ship to provide an easily navigated catalogue of everything she owned. A necessary addition considering the sheer size of her wardrobe.

A few screens later, The Master found the boots she was looking for and you paled as she plucked them from the shelf. She crouched down in front of you and lifted your leg, slowly sliding the boots on. They sat above your knee, almost reaching the under shirt, and were jet black, a sharp contrast to the deep reds and purples which made up the panels of your corset. The heels were almost six inches high and thin as a needle.

Your protests were silenced by a single finger, a silent warning not to speak because your opinions were neither wanted nor required. The Master nodded appreciatively and jumped to her feet, helping you up to yours in the same graceful move. Toying with the golden rope in her hand, she said, “Perfect.”

“I can’t walk in these, Master.”

“You haven’t tried,” she chastised, clicking her tongue in annoyance. She allowed the rope to fall from her hands, freeing you as she gestured to the empty space around you. “Give it a go then, love.”

The first few steps were shaky to say the least and, with your arms so neatly tied in front of you, you weren’t able to stretch out and stabilise your balance either. The Master caught you each time you fell, watching closely as you slowly gained control. Squeezed by the corset, practically towering with the heels, it was a struggle to feel connected to your body in any familiar way but The Master’s unyielding attention was enough to motivate you to success.

Once you got the hang of it, The Master slipped her arm around your waist and guided you back to the central control room of the TARDIS. You stood small against the wall, wishing to disappear as you felt the ship’s judgment. You could only imagine how bad it was going to feel to be subjected to this scrutiny by the population of an entire planet.

“They won’t give you a second look,” The Master assured you, once again invading your thoughts. “Slaves and harlots are so common place on Abos that they’re effectively a part of the scenery.”

For some reason, that didn’t make you feel much better.

“Keep your head down, do exactly what I tell you and no-one will even notice you. I’ve never been to Abos before; this is going to be so fun.”

“Fun isn’t exactly a word I would use.”

“Lighten up, love. If it’s any consolation, you look stunning.” She flicked a lever on the console then turned her back to it, openly admiring you once again. “I would trade a star to own you. Hell, I would trade an entire galaxy for you.”

Mouth dry, cheeks burning at the compliment, you tore your gaze and focused on one of the bookcases across the room. “What’s the plan when we arrive, then?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little brain about it.”

“I’d really rather -”

“Too late,” The Master interrupted. Behind her, the central pillar flashed brightly and a series of lights flickered around her hands, the pattern apparently meaning something to her. “We’re here.”


	10. Chapter 10

It turned out that your concerns of modesty were unfounded when you stepped out of the TARDIS and into Abos.

Around you, people of all genders and species were led around on leashes, barely more than scraps of fabric to cover their bodies. They reeked of shame, a heavy cloud of pathetic submission hung above each slave that stumbled past you. None, not a single person, looked up from their owner’s heels but a few spared you sneaky side glances as they picked up on the horror and sadness you projected.

If they were lucky, slaves were simply bound around the neck with a rope like you – although the fibrous strands appeared to rub harshly against their skin and left behind a mess of dark marks. You wondered in the back of your mind whether that decreased their value or not. Others with masters less thoughtful than yours wore chains of spikes and thorns, circlets of tiny blades which bit at their throats with every single step and left behind a trail of bloody drops.

In your high knee boots and well constructed corset you were by far the most protected ‘slave’ around, not that it did much good against the bitter swirling gale. The wind scratched at your flesh, threw dust particles at you with such speed that a series of small bruises had already started to form down your arm and across your exposed chest.

At your side, The Master watched the bustling market scene with interest. You sought hard to find some spark or anger over the way these people were being treated but her strongest emotion by far remained intrigue. In the time you spent fuming for the wasted lives of strangers, people who had come here with hope and in search for something better, she simply studied the people of Abos, assimilated their ways and formulated a plan. She kept the details hidden from you, as you’d come to expect, but the smug satisfaction that came with a great idea filled your chest with an unwelcome excitement.

Tugging on the wide lapels of her long jacket, the red velvet protecting her perfectly from the sandstorm, The Master glanced over her shoulder to check what the TARDIS had disguised herself as (a furry purple tree with blue tipped leaves) then strode off to the right without a word. She pulled on the rope around your neck, leading you behind her, and said cheerily, “Right, then. Off we go.”

“Off we go where?”

“Don’t speak,” she hissed. Her tone cut almost as hard as the sharp sand on your skin but it was only concern you felt radiating from her. It felt strange coming from The Master; you knew she found you interesting but hadn’t quite realised the depths of her investment in your safety. Against odds, she had taken a liking to you and didn’t want to see you get hurt – at least not by anyone other than herself. The comforting vibes rippled with that very same selfishness and you realised that your silence would not only keep you out of danger but maintain her own safety too.

She stopped so suddenly that you crashed straight into her chest but she hid the mistake well by wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into a passionate kiss. You melted into her instantly, fears and concerns about this planet fading to background noise as your focus honed entirely on The Master. God, she was a fantastic kisser. It was a battle you were more than content to lose, your submission a prize you were all too willing to hand over as spoils of war.

Her hand slid down the back of your corset, fingers reaching beneath the thin fabric of your under shirt and between your legs. She hummed smugly against your lips, teasing the wetness. Each flick of her fingers ignited a spark in your core as sparks danced across your skin, a fantastic feeling that had you practically bucking your hips for more.

Putty in her hands, your head fell back and your legs grew weak until it was The Master’s easy strength alone holding you upright. Her mouth on your neck, she nipped at the sensitive skin, marked you with lipstick and bruises as her fingers continued their languid exploration, purposefully slow as she drew out every single whimper which fell from your lips.

Your bliss faltered as her fingers brushed over the top of your spine but her grip grew stronger, holding you in place against her.

“Be a good girl for your Master,” she whispered, sharp nails digging into the inside of your thigh. “You don’t need to struggle. Although, it is always more fun that way.”

Refusing to play her game, you allowed yourself to go limp in her arms and were rewarded with another deep kiss. Purple sparks filled your vision and, unlike in the Celesta, this time you welcomed them. The Master’s conscience merged with your own as she slipped two fingers inside you, pure ecstasy rushing through your body.

The pair of you floated through all of space and time, the market on Abos barely a distant memory as you lost yourself to The Master’s touch. It was overwhelming in the most incredible way; you felt full in a way you had never felt before. Body and mind, heart and soul, you opened yourself to the Timelord, clung to her as the tension inside you grew so close to bursting. Like a dam about to explode, you threw your head back and then -

She pulled away. Your mental connection snapped, present, stronger than ever, but no longer all encompassing. The hands which held you up, stopped you from falling, vanished and you landed on the hard ground with an uncomfortable crash. A well dressed man spat on you as he passed, angered by your very presence, but The Master was quick to make him pay for disrespecting you – or, as the other vile upper class on Abos saw it, disrespecting her property. His tiny form clattered to the ground in front of you and she crushed the miniaturised body beneath her sharp heel, ground him into the dusty.

Yanking you up to your feet by the rope around your neck, she trailed her fingers gently over the trail of marks she’d left on your throat and smiled, superiority disguising fondness. You felt a hundred eyes on you, judging, wanting, and hurriedly tugged your under shirt back into place to cover yourself. The Master lightly slapped your hand away before you could complete the task but then, after a long moment, sighed and covered you up herself.

She held her fingers in front of your face, the expectation clear. Your cheeks burned as you sucked your juices from them, beyond humiliated at having been taken in such a public place, surrounded by some of the most despicable people in the universe. You opened your mouth to speak but The Master pressed her fingers against your lips and shook her head. Voice low so only you could hear, she warned, “I told you already. Don’t speak.”

Her voice equally clear in your mind, she added, _It’s for your own good, love. You don’t want to know what happens when slaves step out of line here._

_Why did you do that?_

_The telepathic link was unstable. It didn’t take properly the first time and has been fading over time. I needed it in place so we can talk without attracting interest. You’re already better dressed than every other slave here. If I let you speak, my credibility would shatter even more._

You shook your head, as slight a movement as you could manage while still making the action clear. _Not what I meant. Why did you… You know…_

_Fuck you? Because I wanted to._ She grabbed your chin and tilted your face to the right, then licked a long strip across your cheek. _And I know you wanted it too. Don’t try to deny it, love. You’ve wanted me since the first moment we met. Now, shall we get moving?_

_Do I have a choice?_

The Master’s grin widened as she smudged the dark red lipstick even further across your cheek with her thumb. “There’s always a choice, love. It’s just up to you to make the right one.”


	11. Chapter 11

The Workers’ Guild.

It sounded so unassuming, like a union or a useless government department. Instead, it served as the body which distributed slaves around Abos to each and every passing visitor who could afford to buy their way out of chains upon arrival. It was the hub of the planet’s slave trade, known around the galaxy for their excellent stock. There were other, smaller establishments around Abos but this was by far the most well known and most reputable – if any business which sold living people as commodities could be called such.

Nine Postrovian emerald pillars, each over 100 metres tall, held up the external facade. As the sun hit the rare green gem, the light fractured and cast a magical glow across the city. The emerald absorbed the energy and stored it within the crystal lattice, electrifying the atmosphere around the entire building. The hair on the back of your neck stood tall and even The Master’s carefully controlled curls took on a life of their own as you passed through the static field that protected patrons from the sandstorm.

The large pillars were mesmerising and you couldn’t help but reach out to touch one as you passed. Your fingers traced the delicate veining beneath the surface, following the swirling patterns with deep intrigue. A sharp static shock sent your arm recoiling and an almost defensive cloud surrounded the crystal. A deep set burning lingered in your muscles, a pain which The Master only compounded when she tugged on your wrists hard enough to pop your shoulder free.

“Don’t touch,” she hissed. “Postrovian emerald is a sentient crystal. You just pissed it off.”

_How was I supposed to know?_

“You’re a bloody empath, love. Start paying attention to your surroundings before you get us both killed.”

_Sorry, Master._

“Forgiven.” She stopped without warning and pulled you against her body, stealing a rough kiss. While you really hated Abos, you could certainly get used to this new level of attention and affection from The Master. Especially when her assault on your mouth softened, her hands slipped lower and the kiss became something else, something more gentle, almost tender.

Slapping your arse, the sharp sting simply adding to the pleasure you felt, The Master turned your face side to side and admired the mess she’d made. You could feel the lipstick smudges across your skin, feel the warmth on your cheeks, the desperation in your eyes. Oh, it was pathetic but you could hardly help yourself around her.

The Master toyed with the rope around your neck, her sharp nail scratching lightly across your throat. “I really do love seeing you wear my shade. Now, keep your head down and follow my lead. Don’t say a word.”

_But…_

“I mean it. Not even telepathy. If you break their rules, I won’t be able to help you. Not in there. Understand?” You nodded and she smiled. “Good. Let’s go explore, shall we?”

You stuck to her shadow and followed her inside. Every second was a fight to keep your head about you. Slaves were dragged in by spiked metal chains around their wrists, ankles or throats, deep bleeding gashes a clear indication of their perceived worth here. The ones that stumbled were publicly whipped both by employees of the Worker’s Guild and any passing buyer who fancied a turn.

The brutality with which they brought slaves to their knees left you feeling sick, an entirely unique emotion here. All manner of twisted enjoyment and superiority radiated from the patrons around you. It was almost a blessing; the thick sheet of suffocating snobbery effectively covered your own disgust, so if there were any other empaths around your horror would barely register.

That didn’t stop The Master from feeling it, though. Your bond was stronger than ever, growing more solid with each passing second as you gravitated towards her and the protection she offered. Not only to your body but to your mind. Around the edges of your conscience, you felt the tingle of artron energy, no longer an uncomfortable distraction but instead a comforting bubble that embraced you, shielded you from the hunger of other buyers and traders.

Your gaze lingered on a Tarcanian child across the hall. She could barely have been older than four or five. Covered by what looked an awful lot like a tattered pillow case with holes for her arms, she screamed at the top of her lungs as a pair of Slitheen clamped thick shackles around her limbs and dragged her into a side room. You could only imagine what horrors awaited her in there and before you even registered the intention you swerved off to help her.

“Get back here,” The Master grabbed your arm before you could do anything stupid and shoved you against a crystal pillar. Forearm pressed firmly into your windpipe, she hissed, “We can’t help her. She’s already been sold. It’s too late to be a hero. Stop caring before I have to do something drastic.”

For the benefit of the Xistea polymates, or possibly her own amusement, you couldn’t say for certain, The Master whipped a small dagger from inside her red velvet jacket and pressed the tip into your shoulder joint. There wasn’t enough force to penetrate the skin but you still winced, breathing shakily, until the alien onlookers turned away. It wasn’t entirely a fake reaction; the spot she chose was home to a cluster of nerves that could, if damaged severely enough, left you paralysed.

Pride rippled through your bond as The Master stowed the dagger back in its hiding place, pleased with your performance. She grabbed your arm and tugged you towards the far corner. Much to your surprise, and slight concern, if you were being honest, a group of fury aliens separated the moment The Master came near, parting to form a perfect path for her to pass through.

“I’m basically a god on their planet,” she said, a wicked glint in her eyes. Sensing your intrigue, she promised to tell you the full story once you were safe back in the TARDIS. The distraction short lived, The Master’s features hardened as her focus returned. She stopped outside a silver door and groaned. “A thirteen bit security system? That’s it? How common.”

Spinning around on her thin heels, The Master reached behind you and plucked a small, circular node from the back of your neck. It was the exact colour of your skin, right down to the tiny variations of a birth mark. She attached it to the door, about half way down, perfectly centred, and counted down from five with her fingers. A sharp burst of air hit you as the door clicked open.

“You put an explosive on me?”

“I told you not to speak, love.”

_Master, why did you put an explosive on me?_

She rolled her eyes and tapped your cheek twice. “Don’t worry. I would never have used it on you, darling. I just couldn’t be caught carrying it.”

_But it’s okay if I was discovered smuggling in an explosive?_

“Do you see any damage? It’s hardly an explosive. More of an EMP and it just shorted out the door to the records room where there will be a comprehensive log of every purchase and sale that has been facilitated by the Worker’s Guild. If we’re lucky, we will be able to find who bought your brother and track him down.”

Pointedly ignoring the way your mental walls crumbled and the wave of soft, warm feelings that flowed through the bond, The Master pushed you into the records room and yanked on the golden rope around your neck to stop you from falling into a databank.

The lights flickered on and your stomach dropped at the sheer size of the records room. It seemed to go on forever, just like The Master’s TARDIS. There was no way you would be able to find Lijax’s file among all the literal other millions there. At your side, The Master didn’t seem so overwhelmed by the daunting task but she was annoyed by something.

“There should be an attendant here. This is on the one place on Abos where information is stored in analogue – I would have just hacked the database otherwise. He is the only one that can tell us where to find the file.” Throwing her legs up on the desk as she took a seat in the attendant’s chair, The Master stretched out and said, “I guess we’ll just have to wait then.”

“That’s your grand plan? Seriously? Wait it out?”

“Watch your tone, love.”

“Regardless of how it looks, I am not your slave, Master.” You tried to gesture to the ridiculous outfit you wore but the tight ropes that bound your wrists made it incredibly difficult. “I don’t have to follow your orders.”

“Come here.” You stayed perfectly still, defiant despite the inherent danger of refusing her. She allowed you five seconds of disobedience before her patience faltered. “I won’t ask again.”

You remained where you were on a matter of principle, a foolish, childish reason to do anything – especially against an opponent as strong and wilful as The Master – but you were resolute. “No.”

It was worse that The Master didn’t immediately strike out. Instead, she leant back in the chair until it creaked then swung her legs off the table with almost enough force to dent the marble floor. Her heels clicked against the stone as she circled you, blade once again in hand. She trailed the sharp point lightly over your skin, down the back of your thighs, under your arms and straight up your neck.

Easily locating the bundle of nerves in your shoulder which could paralyse you, once again demonstrating a terrifying knowledge of your anatomy, The Master looked straight into your eyes, her green irises aflame with a power so old that its name was lost to time. “Defiance suits you, pet, but don’t push me too far.”

“You won’t kill me.”

The tip of the dagger bit your flesh, a warm drop of blood slowly trickling down your back. “Won’t I?”

You bit down on your bottom lip as she cut deeper, the sharp piercing pain actually enough to override the lingering numbness from touching the emerald pillars. And, although it hurt like a bitch, The Master was actually proving your point. Closing the non existent gap between you and her, you breathed, “You’re purposefully avoiding the nerves.”

“Clever girl.”

The Master wiped the blood from her dagger on her dark trousers and sliced straight through the beautiful knots that bound your arms together. She chuckled softly at your shock as the ropes fell to the ground. “It’s made of Dalekanium. Cuts through pretty much anything.”

Shaking your arms by you side to increase the blood flow, you muttered, more to yourself than her, “So you really were holding back.”

Completely ignoring your statement, refusing to acknowledge the mess of emotions that trickled through the bond on both ends, The Master said, “May as well start looking through the cabinets and see if we can find what we want before I have to kill the attendant. Or I suppose you could do it, if you prefer. I’m not fussed.”

“I’m not going to kill the attendant.”

“But you’ll stand by as I do? What a fascinating line to draw.”

You shook your head. “Stop it.”

“No, no. There’s nothing wrong with that. The Doctor does it all the time. Refuses to kill himself but is quite content to let others do it for him.”

“Master…”

“Would you watch me torture the attendant? Chop the pathetic creature to pieces a little bit at a time, or maybe I’ll hypnotise him to spill his guts – figuratively and literally. That would be poetic, don’t you think?”

“Master!” You shoved her behind the nearest row of cabinets, barely covered by the shadows they cast.

Her arm slipped around your waist, pulled you so tightly against her chest that you could feel her hearts beating. A hand slid down your back and cupped your arse, a thigh slipping between yours as she rocked gently against yours. “So torture turns you on, eh? Good to know.”

You pushed her away and glared sharply. “Will you control yourself?”

“Why would I do that?” she pouted.

“Because,” you hissed, “There’s someone else here!”


	12. Chapter 12

“Stay here, love. Don’t want you to get hurt. Not by anyone else, anyway.” A grin spread across The Master’s face, wicked and dangerous yet somehow captivating. She touched your jaw gently, tilting your mouth up into the perfect position for a kiss. Her lips barely brushed your and you were already trembling. Oh, you were ready to fall to your knees for her, so far gone that you could hardly remember a time before The Master wandering into your life.

You chased her kiss but she didn’t yield, bumping her nose against yours, maintaining a teasing distance that you couldn’t close and lauding her dominance over you. The Master was utterly infuriating and only encouraged by the annoyance that trickled through the emotional bond between you. It was only as her hand closed over your mouth that you remembered there was someone else in the office.

The Master pressed her cheek to yours, her free hand a comforting weight on your hip, and muttered, “Now you be good and let me take care of this.”

Don’t kill them, you pleaded, more concerned that she might get herself harmed in the process than for any care of the intruder’s life. The Master sensed that through the bond and kissed the spot beneath your ear, sucking a small mark onto your skin. If not for her leg between yours holding you up, you would have melted into a puddle at her feet.

The sound of a pen scratching harshly against paper cut through your blissful state; that was no doubt another life sold to slavery, an innocent visitor to Abos who had come in search of a better life only to leave in far worse conditions. The ropes marks around your arms and wrists had begun to fade now but those unfortunate souls traded here in the Worker’s Guild would not escape their bonds so easily.

“Hmmm. You feel that sadness,” The Master breathed, fingers digging angrily into your flesh as the negative emotions bounced back and forth around the bond. She removed her hand from your face and slipped it inside of her coat, once again pulling out the small dagger from a pocket within. “Take it and turn it on the people that deserve it.”

“I can’t -”

“Of course you can. You’ve done it before.” She dropped the dagger into your hand and curled your fingers around the metal handle. It was still warm from settling against her chest. “I believe in you.”

With that, The Master pushed you out from the safety of the shadows and straight into the path of the record keeper. You blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, before you forced a smile onto your face and closed the gap between you and the attendant.  
 _  
I thought you were going to take care of this._

_I changed my mind. Come on, love. Show me what you’ve got._

He was just your average green skinned biped, a few yellow spots down the side of his face the only variation in colour. And, just like every other man in the universe, he was easily distracted by a pretty face and a flash of skin. Luckily for you, there was very little of your body that wasn’t entirely on show and he could barely keep his eyes on your face.

It wasn’t his gaze that had warmth crawling up the back of your neck, though. It was The Master’s. Through the bond you felt her appreciation as she stared shamelessly from the shadows at your arse, her mind wandering to all sorts of sordid places as your fingers squeezed nervously at the dagger in your hand.

At the forefront of her mind, though, was the imminent image of the attendant’s death. _Kill him._

You shuddered, unsure if it were your own voice or hers, and pushed her back, earning only amusement from the Timelord as she willingly withdrew her heavy presence in your mind. She lingered on the edges, of course, not content to remove her claws from you completely. _Get on with it, love. I’m not accustomed to waiting._

“I require your assistance,” you said to the attendant, sickly sweet as you channelled the cocktail waitresses and erotic dancers from the casinos in which you had spent too many years of your life. The dagger slid easily under the back of your corset, the tight strips of fabric holding it in place as you strode towards the man. You didn’t even have to try and be seductive (a fact for which you would be eternally grateful, having seduced too many aliens on this endeavour already); he was practically panting already.

Perched on the edge of his desk, you opened your legs slightly. Toying with the hem of the thin under shirt, a rush of power rolled through your body as his jaw fell wide open in desperate awe.

 _Now, I certainly wouldn’t mind spreading you like that against the TARDIS console._ Heat flared across your cheeks as The Master projected that particular mental image into your mind. Oh, the things she had planned. You could practically feel the hard surface beneath you, all the uneven knobs and levers digging into you from every angle. _You’d like that, wouldn’t you, love?_

_Can’t this wait?_

_Answer my question._

Even though you didn’t want to, you found yourself compelled to respond. It was a pull in your mind, a growing desperation to submit to her and be good for your Master. You caught the thought and frowned. _Stop that. Hypnosis is cheating._

_It only works if you want it to. And you do, don’t you? Oh, the secret desires you have locked away in here. I never knew your species could be so… flexible._

The wetness between your legs grew and you squeezed your thighs together, desperately blocking her from your mind to focus on the task at hand. It didn’t help. Not a single bit. The faster you brought up your mental walls, the faster she knocked them down. Your eyes drifted shut as your resistance wavered and you allowed the images to become clearer in your mind.

Not seconds later did The Master shut off the connection herself. You groaned inwardly in frustration, still able to feel the ghost of her promised touches on your skin. All too amused, she clicked her tongue and chastised, _Focus now, darling. The attention span of men is incredibly limited. Your breasts, beautiful though they may be, will only keep him distracted for so long._

_Well, maybe if you stopped distracting me…_

You leaned forward until your chest spilled over the top of the corset. The attendant instantly took this as an invitation and reached up to fondle you, the thick fabric of the corset mercifully saving you from feeling his rough touch. Capitalising on his divided attention – it being split half between palming his erection and the other half on a pathetic exploration of your breasts – you said, “I need to know where a particular file is kept.”

He glanced up at you, his lustful gaze snapping back to business. His hand slid up over the corset and wrapped itself around your throat. Unlike The Master, who exerted her power over you for your combined pleasure, the attendant simply meant to kill you. The cloud of desire around him had shifted entirely to focused aggression, underlined with a hatred far too strong to be directly aimed at you.

“I will not assist a whore,” he spat, his grip tightening. “You have no right to demand anything from your betters.”

Your fear spiked as you reached around your back to grab the dagger but before you could pull it free the attendant collapsed against you. The Master yanked him off you and tossed him against the wall. She crouched down in the ever growing pool of blood and grabbed him by the throat, showing none of the restraint she maintained around you.

His eyes bulged as he gasped for air but the Timelord didn’t budge. She glowered above him, a beautiful, blonde angel of death, her own dagger (because, naturally she carried more than one) pressed over the centre of his chest where you assumed his heart, black and rotten, to be.

Voice cold like steel, a sharp reminder of just how dangerous she The Master was, she stared deep into his trembling soul and said sternly, “Use your last breaths wisely. Where can I find the file on a slave sold here at the Guild?”

The colour faded from his face, slowly leached away as death dug her claws into the attendant, but The Master was not going to let him pass over so easily. She caught his face in a vice like grip and forced him to stare into her eyes. He thrashed pitifully against her, a fish out of water, but the cold terror eased into compliance as her hypnosis took a hold.

“That’s better. Now, I’ll ask you again. How do I find a specific file in this place?”

“The register.” Dark black blood trickled from the corner of his mouth like oil seeping from a crack in the earth. It rolled over The Master’s hand but she barely seemed to notice, her entire attention focused solely on the attendant.

Twisting the dagger, the sharp point tearing a hole through his wrinkled, bloody shirt, she asked, “And where will I find that?”

“Safe... Under desk.”

_Find it._

You jumped off the desk before her command even settled in your mind and quickly found a metal door hidden behind the wooden drawer. “It’s here. I think it needs a key.”

“Thank you, love.” Like someone flicking a switch, her cheerful tone became harsh once more. The attendant frantically fought her grip but he was too weak, too far gone for it to be anything other than annoying. “Where’s the key, chum?”

A pained whisper, a desperate final prayer for forgiveness, he breathed, “President.”

The Master grinned and slipped the dagger between his ribs, straight into his heart. It dripped black goo over her trousers as she pulled it free, earning a grunt of irritation. “Well, that’s never going to come out now, is it?”

She rose with a grace you’d come to expect and offered you a hand back up onto your feet. Wiping the bloody dagger on the edge of your blouse, she caught your face in her (non bloody) hand and turned it either side to check for any injuries. Despite the clinical assessment, her touch was warm and soft, underlined with a concern that had your mental bond buzzing pleasantly in the back of your mind.

You glanced over at the attendant’s body, unable to feel any sadness for his death. The Master watched you carefully, judging your reaction. Apparently pleased with what she saw, she brushed her lips over yours in a light, teasing kiss and covered the already growing bruises on your throat with her own fingers. Possessiveness spiked in her heart, anger that someone else had dared to mark you when you belonged to her. It was a cloying emotion, an almost physical sensation on your tongue, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to be angry over it.

In a rare turn, you caught The Master by surprise when you wrapped your arms around her and clung to the Timelord in a tight embrace. She remained stiff against you, uncertain how to comfort you, but eventually relaxed enough to circle her limbs around you and gently squeeze your shoulder.

“Master?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I hate this planet.”

She chuckled against your cheek and pulled back, those gorgeous green eyes flickering with emotions neither of you were willing to admit to feeling yet. Hooking a bloody finger beneath the ropes around your neck, she grabbed the dagger lodged beneath your corset and slit straight through the bonds. “As pretty as they looked, it’s time we stop playing around and get on with things. Don’t you think?”

You nodded wordlessly, tracing the intricate impressions that the ropes had left on your skin. The Master kicked the ropes aside and gave you the once over. You were once again struck by your awful state of dress compared to her perfect attire; even with the blood stains on her trousers, she still maintained a calm and collected air of power. No one would ever have guessed that she’d just murdered the attendant.

Guessing your thoughts, The Master said lightly, “Kill enough people and it stops mattering. Put this on and stay close.”

The Master handed you her coat and grinned as you put it on. She stepped closer, eliminating what little space there had been between you, and deftly buttoned it up. You held your breath the entire time, overwhelmed by the sight of her crouched before you, long fingers dancing across your torso. Of course, in a perfect world, she would be undoing buttons rather than covering you up but you couldn’t complain.

“Lovely.” She nodded to herself and offered her hand, wiggling her fingers before you took a hold. “Ready?”

“What exactly are we about to do, Master?”

“We’re going to find the President of the Worker’s Guild and ask nicely for the key to the safe.”

Whatever her definition of ‘asking nicely’ was, you knew that it more than likely include some kind of torture. It didn’t fill you with good feelings but, at the same time, you weren’t overcome by the revulsion and uncertainty that you would have expected to feel a few weeks ago. This little adventure with The Master really had changed you. For better or worse, though, you couldn’t tell.

Sparing a final glance to the attendant’s body, you considered how his death had brought you one step closer to finding your brother. Suddenly his death didn’t seem like such a waste. You turned to The Master and said, “Right then. Let’s go.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Wait!”

The Master frowned, her nose crumpling in confusion. It was most adorable but you certainly weren’t brave enough to tell her; you got the feeling that she knew, though, given that very little escaped the telepathic bond between you now. She glanced you up and down, searching for a physical reason as to why you might have stopped her mid stride, but found nothing. “What is it?”

Already perched back on the edge of the attendant’s desk, his dark blood absorbed by the dark flooring tiles like sponges, you fought against the tight grip of the corset and began to unlace the boots which The Master had so painstakingly strapped you into. “I’m sick of these things.”

“You cannot go barefoot around the Guild.”

You could hardly see why. Before meeting the Timelord, you had only ever once worn a pair of shoes and the experience had been quite uncomfortable. Traipsing around after her in these ridiculous heels had simply honed the point in your mind that your species, and yourself in particular, were much more suited to unrestricted contact with the ground beneath you.

Those thoughts drifted through the bond as you continued to unlace the boots, The Master’s impatience tinged with an undeniable desire as she watched you remove the shoes and reveal the neat indentations that now marked your otherwise smooth skin.

“I want his trousers, too.”

Stealing clothes from a dead man hadn’t been high up your list of things to do today, or ever, but you really were sick of Abos. Being considered The Master’s harlot by passing strangers didn’t bother you, although perhaps it should have done, but you had a problem with people like the attendant who thought your state of undress meant that they deserved a piece of you.

The Master must have shared at least some of your concerns for she shared her agreement with a sharp nod. “Do what you please, just don’t dilly dally. We don’t have time to spare.” Tapping her toes, she muttered, “I must admit, darling, I never imagined you’d be one to loot the deceased.”

“He hardly needs them now, does he?”

Feet free from the confines of the heels, you jumped down and sighed in relief at being back on the flat ground. The Master’s smirk at your sharp decrease in height didn’t go unnoticed but you refused to give her the satisfaction of a reply. Instead, you jumped around the pool of blood and tugged the trousers from the body, grateful that the dark fabric hid the blood stains.

Naturally, they didn’t fit perfectly but The Master’s coat hid the worst of it. Careful not to walk through the black goo, aware that leaving a trail of bloody footprints probably wouldn’t do you much good, you followed the Timelord back out into the main building and immediately turned left up a large staircase.

It twisted round anti-clockwise and seemed to stretch forever. Imposing as the Guild may have been, you knew that these stairs went far higher than was possible. It was around the thirteenth floor that you grew angry.

“Some kind of optical illusion,” The Master mused. “Space compression field, perhaps. Although, those normally give me a right headache. You know, the kind that you get after ice-cream? The only good thing humans have ever invented, ice-cream. Maybe guns, too. Nowhere near as efficient as the laser rifles of other civilisations but there is a beauty in the messy way theirs work.”

You’d met a human once. Odd fellow. They weren’t common around this part of the galaxy and you wondered whether The Master had much experience with the distant race. You’d have to ask her sometime. However, the strange bipeds were currently the last thing on your mind. Where The Master claimed to be headache free, a sharp pressure built at the base of your skull, like someone pressing against the bone, smashing their way out.

Twisting your thumbs against your temples, you groaned, “Something is wrong here.”

“You mean aside from the whole selling innocent travellers into slavery thing?” she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You stumbled on the next stair, misjudging the height. The stone was cool beneath your feet, a comforting chill not unlike the temple steps in your home town. That tranquil place seemed a billion miles from here now. “Can you feel that too? The buzzing behind your eyes? And when did it get so bright in here?”

“Bright? There are sectors of zero space which are brighter than this dingy little hallway.”

“What? You mean you can’t… Master, there’s a blinding purple mist surrounding us. How can you not see it?”

The Master took a dramatically deep breath and even went so far as to lick the wall to try and confirm that you weren’t losing your mind. Her eyes widened in surprise, expression alive with scientific intrigue. She jumped down a step and caught your face between her palms, staring deep into your eyes. “Now that is fascinating. Anti proton field, bending space around us. You must be seeing the UV radiation that they emit. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“There are occasions when my people have been known to see beyond the accepted ‘visible’ spectrum. Most with the active gene have lenses made for their eyes so that they don’t have to see it; now I know why.”

“Is it hurting you?”

“It’s uncomfortable,” you said through gritted teeth, badly hiding the pain through the bond.

The Master sighed and slipped a hand into her coat, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m just looking for… These! Sunglasses, should block out the worst of the UV radiation. Better?”

The difference was magnificent. Now, instead of the blinding cloud surrounding you, all you saw was a flickering line above your head, like an old fluorescent light on the blink. Much to your curiosity, instead of heading up the stairs, the line swerved off to the side and revealed a very faint outline of a hidden door against the wall. You touched the space where you expected a handle to be and the door instantly clicked open.

“Fantastic!” The Master clapped you on the shoulder and strode straight into the room without a second’s pause. Faced with a laser pistol in the face, she barely blinked. “Do put that down before someone gets hurt, Mr President.”

“How dare you enter my private office!” He reached down for the panic button but The Master was faster. Her blade landed perfectly in the centre of his hand, pinning him against the desk and bringing forth a blood curdling scream.

Calm as ever, The Master strode around the room and perched on the edge of his desk, smoothing his shaggy purple hair away from his face. She grabbed a fistful and slammed his forehead against the hard surface and plucked the pistol from his hand, tossing it in your direction. “I did warn you.”

“What do you want?” the President of the Guild hissed, venom dripping from each word.

“Just the key to the safe downstairs. Give us that and I might let you keep both of your hands. What do you think, dear?”

It was pretty easy to ignore the President’s vicious slurs as you ran your fingers over the edges of the hundreds of books that lined the room. You pulled one out and, as you flicked through the pages, said steadily, “That there’s a secondary alarm and security are on their way.”

A sick noise filled the air as she twisted the dagger in his palm and asked, “Is she right?”

“You triggered it as you walked in.”

The Master wiped the grin from his face with a swift backhand, the sharp impact breaking his nose. Thick blood poured down his chin, dripping into the puddle on his desk. Toying with the messy purple strands of hair on his cheek, she dug her sharp fingernails into his flesh and began to demand that he hand over the key when you called her name. “Bit busy, love.”

“I’ve got the key.”

“I told you, I’m -” The Master looked slowly over her shoulder, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. All she had to do was cock a finger for you to cross the room, drawn to her by a power you couldn’t explain.

You fit perfectly between her thighs and dropped the key into her palm. “It was in the book. The writing on the spine emits UV radiation. It’s the only one in the room that does.”

She clicked her tongue disappointedly at the President but there was only pride directed at you. “My dear, you are quite remarkable. Come on. Let’s go find that book and get out of here.”

“You won’t make it out the front doors,” the Guild President hissed.

His over confident boasts were silenced when The Master pulled out her TCE and shrunk him down to a lifeless doll. Not even to dim her annoyance she knocked the little figure on the ground and crushed it beneath her boot. Once again you found yourself unable to conjure any remorse or sympathy for the death, instead content to bathe in the superiority that flowed through your bond like thrashing ocean waves.

The Master took your hand and led you back downstairs to the record room, efficiently departing any guards that appeared by shrinking them down to size. The main foyer bustled as uninformed, or uninterested, parties continued to buy and sell their slaves without a single care that the President of the Guild had been murdered.

“I can’t wait to get off this planet,” you grumbled, struggling to keep up with The Master’s purposeful strides. Away from the harsh UV lights, you removed the sunglasses and slipped them into one of the impossible pockets inside her jacket, still amazed by their size. “It’s bloody awful.”

“You can’t tell me that you haven’t had a little bit of fun, though.” The Master kicked open the door to the records office and quickly removed the fat tomb from the safe beneath the desk. Neither of you spared a glance to the corpse to your side as you opened the book and glared down at the blank pages.

A long second passed before The Master turned to you and said, “This is fine. It must be tuned to the attendant’s DNA.” She pulled a beautiful, crimson handled blade from the tiny pocket of her waistcoat (truly, Timelord science was remarkable) and tossed it to you. “Left forefinger, please.”

Sensing your hesitation, The Master tapped her fingers impatiently against the desk and said, “I already killed him. It’s your turn to do the dirty work.”

His body was already beginning to collapse, the alien decomposition making this all the more disgusting. You swallowed back the bile in your throat as you pressed the glittering edge of the blade against his joint. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, you hummed a random melody to block the chilling crack as you forced the knife through the finger.

The Master shared little of your horror when it came to handling the cool flesh. She plucked it from your grip with a smile and systematically moved it across the spine, pages and covers until the text appeared inside. Flicking through the records at a remarkable speed, the Timelord closed the book and announced, “His file is in section Seven-Delta-Fish. Chop chop. We can’t have much time before the military arrive and I really do not have the energy to start a planetary war today.”

“How many wars have you started?” The lights flickered to life overhead as you strode through the archives, trusting that The Master knew where she was going and wasn’t just leading you through a series of random twists and turns.

“Why? Does it bother you?”

There was a challenge there; you would have sensed it even without the telepathic connection. “Honestly?” She nodded. “I think it should probably bother me more than it does.”

She laughed and no more was said on the matter. A few minutes later, you were practically vibrating as The Master fingered through the folders in the cabinet. “Got it. Let’s get out of here.”

This was the closest you had been to Lijax for almost two years. Your chest was tight and you could hardly breathe from the anticipation. Finally you would know where to find your brother and then you could whip his arse for being so stupid as to leave in the first place. “What does it say?”

The Master slapped your hand away and shot you a stern look. Already half a dozen steps ahead, she said, “You can read it in the TARDIS. There’s no time to waste. Keep up.”

By some miracle, you and The Master managed to blend in with the crowd of bothered business people as the military cleared the Guild. You were stopped to present IDs but The Master used her hypnosis to get you out of that (better that than the dagger, which was her second option) and you soon found the garish tree disguising the TARDIS’s location.

The ship’s door hadn’t even closed before The Master dropped the folder onto the floor and stormed over to the central console. Anger radiated from her, so strong that she didn’t bother to even try and hide it, but you were too preoccupied with the files to ask what had caused it.

You picked them up from the ground and flicked through the pages, sick to your stomach at the thought of your brother suffering such awful treatment. The Guild chipped him like a pet and sold him to a trader from Incargou. There was no way of knowing that he was even still there but it was a start.

Turning to The Master, you were surprised to find her just sitting there, feet up on the console, staring at you. Not the nice kind of staring, the kind that left you dripping between your legs, had you ready to fall to your knees and beg for just one touch. No, this was the kind of stare that inspired fear in the hearts of lessers, thick with disdain and, worse than that, indifference.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

You slowly crossed the ship to join her on the uncomfortable seat but the second you sat she jumped to her feet and strode away. It was stupid but you couldn’t bare the unearthly growl of the ship’s engines so reached out into The Master’s mind to find the reason for her sudden mood swing.

You regretted it instantly.

She sprung back around the bright column and grabbed your throat, perched in your lap, squeezing the air from your body. Her lips were warm on your cheek as she growled, “Don’t you dare try that again.”

_Why not? You do it to me all the time._

“You are not half as interesting as you think you are when you talk back to me, Y/N.” Despite that, she released her grip and swung herself from your lap. The Master stiffened at your fingers curled around her wrist, pulling her back to you. “Let go before I remove that pretty hand for good.”

If fingers could look sad, hers would have done as yours slipped free. “Please tell me what I did wrong.”

“You’re going to leave.”

Her answer knocked the little remaining wind from your chest. “What? No, I’m not.”

“Course you will. Once you’ve found you dear brother, you will go with him without so much as a ‘thank you, Master’.” You began to protest but she shut you up with a single look. It was sharp like the blades she loved so much and you knew better than to argue then. “Oh, I don’t care. It won’t be hard to find someone else to entertain me. You set the bar pretty low.”

That hurt far more than any physical wound could have done and what was worse was that you understood her cruelty all too well. Pain and abandonment swirled around her like a storm, so strongly that it was a miracle her tools weren’t whizzing around her. She was building her walls, cutting you from her life first so that when you left it wouldn’t hurt so much.

But what she didn’t understand was that you weren’t going to leave her. Maybe in the first few hours of knowing her, you’d have taken any chance to turn and run but now? You weren’t sure you could imagine a life without her. Your mental barriers were so low that any low level telepath could have picked up on them but The Master adamantly ignored your attempts to show her the truth of your emotions.

You padded silently after her around the console, watching as she flicked switches and turned dials in a seemingly random pattern – but then, if there was a logic to the TARDIS, it was well beyond your understanding. You crashed straight into her chest as The Master turned around, the red glow of the ship reflecting in those beautiful eyes like fire.

“Move.”

“Not until you listen to me.”

“Not so big on that. Ask anyone.”

“Master, will you just -”

“No, I won’t. And if you ask again I will push you into a black hole. I will take you to Incargou and then you’re on your own. Got it?”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t accept that.” You threw your arms around her neck and pulled her into a deep kiss, pouring every drop of your lust and twisted affection into the embrace. She was stiff in your arms until suddenly, desire flaring like someone had flicked a light switch, The Master bent you backwards over the dashboard and kissed you back, breathless.

It was like being caught in the centre of a fire storm, dangerous but exhilarating, especially when you gave yourself to the flames. You were the ice to her fire, melting with each and every touch, losing your mind and yet you’d never felt more content. This was where you were supposed to be, pressed up against your Master, perhaps slightly uncomfortable with the many levers digging into your back but beyond doubt that this was where you belonged.

Breaking the kiss, her eyes alight with something ethereal and indescribable, The Master ordered shortly, “Bedroom. Now.”

“What about my brother?” you asked, the last spark of sense making itself known as the rest of your body was practically begging for more.

“It’s a time machine. We can find him yesterday. I won’t ask again, love. Bedroom. Now.”

You didn’t waste another second.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think, this is my first go at writing Whittaker!Master so :D  
> Also, come talk to me on tumblr!


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